


Three's a Better Number than Two

by bag_of_catZY (catZY)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - D/s, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catZY/pseuds/bag_of_catZY
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's a Sub who has never trusted Doms, until Tony. Tony's a Switch who never thought his rare presentation would get in the way of being a good Dom for Clint, until Bucky. Bucky's a Dom who thought he'd never have anyone to share his life with after Hydra, until these two punks came along.</p><p>Or,<br/>A story set in an alternate universe where most people are Neutrals, but a number are either Doms or Subs. Tony and Clint are in a happy Dom/Sub relationship. Enter Bucky. Cue jealousy, general confusion, and all manner of shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of five parts, so I hope you enjoy it enough to stick it out to the end. I plan on updating every few days, so if you don't see another part within a week, feel free to politely heckle me to hurry it up (is it even possible to politely heckle?).
> 
> A few clarifications (I don't want anyone to feel that I've misled them with any of the tags):  
> I have tagged some things that are going to show up in later chapters. In this first part, Clint and Tony are together, and only Clint, Tony, Bucky, and Coulson show up. Also, even though this is ultimately a fic about Bucky/Clint/Tony, each of the three pairings within the triad do show up on their own as well, so I'm not just being excessive with the relationship tags. Finally, the D/S elements in this story are fairly mild, so if you're looking for heavy BDSM, this might not be your bag (but try it anyway - you might like it!).
> 
> Alright, I'll let you get on with the reading!

Clint really should have seen this coming. And in a way, he had. He’d always thought, in the back of his mind, that Tony would grow tired of his limitations and his inability to give Tony everything he deserved and Tony would leave him to find something better. But with each trial they had overcome and become stronger for it, a hope that this was real, this was finally it, would swell a little bit bigger in his heart.

It shouldn’t hurt so much because he’d known this was a possibility, expected it even, but it did, it hurt so fucking bad. His heart was like a stone in his chest and there was a weird, hollow clenching feeling in his gut.

Ever since Bucky had shown up at the Tower’s doorstep, his arm shot halfway to hell and eyes full of confused misery, looking like a hobo, Steve had been patiently helping his lost-and-found best friend recover their shared childhood memories and Tony—well, Tony had fallen in love with the bionic arm at first sight and had taken to badgering Bucky into letting him take a look. Tony just could not resist literally poking the sleeping bear. Who knew when the unstable brainwashed assassin would be triggered and lash out? Then again, Clint hardly had a leg to stand on given his history with Tasha. Maybe there was something to annoying Soviets into submission.

Anyways, Bucky had finally agreed to let Tony check his arm out today, either having been worn down by the endless requests or finally deciding the inconvenience of lugging around a chunk of malfunctioning metal wasn’t worth avoiding Tony.

Tony had understandably spent the first half hour with Bucky in his workshop entirely tensed up with excitement, tripping over himself with gleeful ideas. At least he had until Bucky, who never touched people willingly, had laid his flesh hand on Tony’s shoulder. Immediately, Tony’s whirlwind of activity and chatter had ground to a halt.

They had spent the subsequent hours in complete silence, Bucky never moving his gentle but firm grip an inch from Tony’s shoulder and Tony casting Bucky shy glances for approval from underneath his eyelashes. Clint had never seen Tony behave this way before, but he knew the signs because _he_ sometimes gave _Tony_ those glances when he was down under. This was typical behavior for a Sub with a Dom they wanted to please.

Tony was a Switch, so Clint knew theoretically that Tony _could_ behave this way, but in his mind, regardless of Tony’s presentation, Tony had always been Clint’s Dom. And seeing him going Sub for someone else, intentional or not?—well, that knowledge stabbed into Clint sharper than any knife. Here was something Clint couldn’t give Tony, something Clint thought Tony didn’t even need with Clint around. Stupid. So stupid. When had Clint ever been enough for anyone?

And when Bucky let that hoarse little “good” fall from his lips after Tony announced he was finished—and Tony smiled a shy little grin in response—Clint knew this was the beginning of the end.

 

 

 

 

 _When Fury strongly suggested the Avengers stay together for faster response times and “bonding” or some such shit, and Tony generously opened up his giant Tower as a home to his new teammates, Clint’s only thought was_ well, this is going to end well.

_Clint was less concerned about the volatile mashup of big personalities plucked straight from myths and science fiction all living together and more about the ratio of three Doms (the eminent Captain, the snarky billionaire, and the green rage monster) to one Sub (him). His early experiences with Doms after he presented as a Sub in the circus had ingrained within him a deep lifelong suspicion and avoidance of all Doms._

_After he had left the circus, he had suffered through uncontrolled drops on his own until he had met Coulson and been recruited for SHIELD. Coulson was a Neutral, like a decent portion of the general population, and he didn’t have the right pheromones, but his no-nonsense way of giving orders in the field and quiet praise after well-executed shots apparently translated well into substituting for a Dom. They both knew it was a temporary solution, but Clint trusted him, which was more than he could say about any Dom, and the fact that Coulson was willing to do something that didn’t do much for himself just to help out Clint lit a feeling in his chest he couldn’t describe with words._

_But now Coulson was gone. His handler, friend, guardian, safety net—everything—was just gone and never coming back. He was completely adrift, totally lost, and now he was being thrust into a new situation with strangers—even worse, strange Doms. But he had no choice, so he decided the only thing he could do was suck it up and avoid. Avoid the problem, avoid his feelings, and above all, avoid the Doms._

_That last bit was completely bamboozled by Tony Stark. Which, go figure. Clint shouldn’t even be surprised at this point._

_Within moments of sweeping everyone into Stark Tower—the letters still hadn’t been fixed, so was it now Avengers Tower?—and before the Captain could say “teamwork”, Stark had set up a Team Movie Night and gave everyone access to an electronic calendar to input times for shared meals and training. For a man that vehemently claimed he did not play well with others, he was at least pretty good at pretending._

_Clint had a great plan for holing up in his room and feeling sorry for himself, but JARVIS nipped that in the bud. Unsurprisingly, Stark’s artificial intelligence was as annoyingly persistent as its creator. And he supposed that after years of wrangling Stark into attending board meetings and charity galas, Clint was hardly even a challenge. Tired of nonstop notifications, Clint resigned himself to participating in team stuff at least in the letter if not the spirit of the law._

_Clint always sat by himself far away from everyone else during Movie Night, citing his farsightedness as the reason. He only talked to Natasha during mealtimes because she was safe. And he trained by himself in the early hours of the morning instead of sleeping._

_Even this compromised isolation couldn’t last because Stark always liked sticking his nose into things._

_During one sleepless night, as Clint was sinking arrow after arrow into their targets, he felt himself inadvertently slipping down. He hadn’t been taken down in so long. He had been too afraid to find even a professional after the terrifying blank nothingness that he had experienced under Loki’s thumb. Going down wasn’t the problem when he got to this point. A little bit of focus and stillness and silence was enough. However, coming back up was a different story. Without a Dom or a substitute, he was going to drop into a spiraling freefall. He felt himself sliding down, down, down, but he was helpless to stop it._

_Actually existing in subspace wasn’t so bad, even if he was alone. He was sharply aware of himself and everything around him. The friction of his fingers on the bowstring. The sound it made as it was released. The arrow whistling through the air. The satisfying meaty_ thunk _as it sank into the bullseye. The sweat beading at his brow. The even cadence of his breath. In. Out. In. Out. In—_

_The door to the range was thrown wide open and a body thrumming with energy stumbled through. Clint was violently ejected out of the cool dark place he had slowly sunk into. His gasp of horrified shock was jarringly loud in the still air._

_His bow clattered to the ground, slipping through nerveless fingers. Distantly, he thought_ no, not his bow _. But everything was so far away. And the other person was too close. In his space. Dom-Dom-Dom! His mind was shrieking and spinning in circles and frozen and frantic all at once. He couldn’t. No. Danger! Getting closer. Must-no-must get away. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop—_

_“Hey, hey, you’re alright. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll stay over here, okay? See, look, I’m not coming closer, I’m not touching you. Everything’s going to be alright. Just. Come on, breathe with me.”_

_Almost against his will, he started obeying the soothing voice and following along with the breathing. Once his breathing evened out into something more natural, he felt calmer, but only a little bit. The weird feeling in his gut was still there and his head felt unmoored._

_“Okay, good, awesome. You’re doing great! Do you mind if I come a little closer?” When Clint started to tense up, the voice immediately backtracked, “Or not. That’s okay, too!”_

_The voice was familiar. Clint squinted. Oh hey, that was Stark._

_When Clint was in possession of all his faculties, he generally thought Stark was an asshole but a decent enough guy. After all, he himself was an asshole, so he had no stones to throw. While under though, Clint thought he was pretty nice, so far at least, so maybe he was safe?_

_Clint took a small step closer. He figured if Stark had helped him breathe properly and respected his boundaries, maybe the man deserved a little show of trust as a reward?_

_“Am I reading that right? Coming closer is allowed now?”_

_Clint nodded shyly._

_“Awesome!”_

_Instead of crowding in all at once like Clint half-expected, half-feared, Stark gradually ambled closer. He stopped about a foot away and then slowly raised his hand. “Is touching allowed?”_

_Clint hesitated, torn between his desire to say yes and his fear of what that yes entailed. On one hand, he wanted to be good. On the other hand, if touching was okay, what would that lead to? Something more? Clint wasn’t sure that was good idea. But what if Stark got mad? He was being awfully nice. Maybe Clint should say yes? But what if Stark was just pretending to be nice just so he could soften Clint up and then do whatever he wanted? What if—_

_“Okay, that means no, that’s fine. You’re good.” Stark let his hand drop. “Do you have someone I should call?”_

_Coulson. But Coulson was gone. He wasn’t ever coming back. Clint was all alone. He felt tears fill his eyes, but he was helpless to stop them._

_Stark looked concerned as he asked, “What’s wrong?”_

_Clint hiccupped. “C-Coulson.”_

_Stark’s entire face dropped. “Oh, honey.” Clint was glad for small mercies that there was compassion and heartbreak and empathy in Stark’s eyes—but no pity. “Well, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to take care of you, at least this once just so you don’t drop.”_

_Clint bit his lip, deliberating. He wanted to trust so badly, but he was so damn afraid of all those what-if’s._

_“I know this is kind of unorthodox to ask when you’re already down. Normally, I’d totally negotiate beforehand and all that shebang. But here we are, so…Anyway, I won’t touch if you don’t want. I won’t do anything if you don’t want. You can always tell me to go fuck myself if I tell you to do something you don’t want to do. And if you want to stop, you can, and leave, no harm no foul. So what do you say?” Stark held out a waiting hand._

_And despite the fact that Clint was so very afraid, he could occasionally be brave, so he took a leap of faith and hoped with all his heart that Stark wouldn’t let him fall._

_Clint gave a small nod and then lightly placed his hand over Stark’s._

_Stark beamed at Clint in genuine pleasure, looped his hand more firmly around Clint’s and started to slowly guide him to the door. Clint stopped him and when Stark turned around, he deliberately glanced at his fallen bow and then looked back at Stark with a question in his eyes._

_“Oh, right, of course, silly me to forget that.” Stark gently unclasped their hands and said, “Go on, go get it.”_

_Clint picked up his most precious possession and when he returned to Stark’s side, he hesitantly reached for the other man’s hand. Stark eagerly took his hand and towed him towards the elevator._

_“Now, where to? My bedroom or yours?”_

_Clint tensed and shook his head vehemently. He didn’t want to be taken to bed. He wasn’t ready for that right now. Maybe not ever._

_“Okay, what about my workshop?”_

_That was Stark’s most sacred sanctuary. The idea of watching him work warmed Clint with memories of sitting on the rug by Coulson’s side while Coulson did paperwork. He nodded in agreement._

_“Fantastic. Great choice!”_

_Clint smiled, pleased by the praise._

_When the doors opened on the workshop, Clint had to stop and stare in amazement. Everything was so—so futuristic. Which was kind of stupid to be surprised about considering this was Tony Stark. Still, there were gleaming machines and floating holograms of light filling the enormous, arching space. Unfinished projects were littered everywhere and all of Stark’s suits were hung in the back like guarding sentinels._

_“You like?”_

_Clint nodded._

_Stark grinned. “I aim to please. Glad you like it. You have superb taste.”_

_All this casual praise dropped everywhere was going to go to Clint’s head._

_“Since the bots are all in timeout for causing an explosion—which is such a big no-no. I mean, they didn’t even invite me!—anyway, since they’re in the corner, you’re going to be my helper today.”_

_Clint noticed three hulking machines in one corner sporting hastily crafted dunce caps, the very image of drooping contriteness. Normally, Clint would be cackling with laughter, but as it was, a faint twitch still managed to uplift the corner of his mouth for half a second. Tony caught it, if his pleased smile was anything to go by._

_Tony—and when did Stark become Tony? Well, Clint had always been a sucker for a sense of humor—handed Clint a hammer and a box of rectangular glass panes. No wait, those were phones._

_“I want you to smash each one as hard as you can with this hammer. Then, I want you to run each phone through this list of tests”—here Tony pushed a hologram towards him—“and make note of any cracks or any bugs. Can you do that?”_

_Clint nodded._

_“Okay, awesome!”_

_Clint took the box and hammer. Tony turned away to start tinkering with whatever mishmash of wires and metal pieces were lying on his worktable._

_Clint sat down on the floor and started laying out each phone on the ground. There were a total of seven. On closer inspection, each design was slightly different and some even felt like a different material to his touch._

_Clint swung the hammer down on the first one, expecting it to crack if not shatter. When nothing happened, he frowned and swung with his full force. He swung a few more times before he accepted that his ordinary mortal strength wasn’t going to dent the surface. He picked up the phone and started to run it through the gamut of tests he was supposed to. Everything worked except there were odd lags and occasional display fritzes. Hmm. So the outside was okay but wasn’t enough to completely protect the delicate insides._

_He continued on with the other six. He was somewhat surprised to feel himself floating back into that vast expanse of calm. He wasn’t under very far, but it was still nice. He would occasionally glance up to check in with Tony. Sometimes, Tony was frowning in deep concentration over his work. Other times, Tony would be watching back with a soft smile of satisfaction on his lips. Clint would preen a little on the inside when he saw that smile._

_Clint was a bit disappointed when the smashing was all done. Was this how Hulk felt after a battle?_

_“All done? Well, come on over here and give me a report.”_

_Clint did just that, reciting every little detail from memory._

_“That was wonderful. Your memory is truly amazing. I’m definitely impressed. And you were very thorough, too. Jarvis, you get all that?”_

_“Yes, Sir. I would like to just say to Agent Barton: that was a job well done.”_

_“Wow, that’s really high praise. J never compliments me.”_

_“That’s because your ego is already inflated enough, Sir.”_

_“Ouch. You really broke my heart there.”_

_“I’m sure, Sir.” How did an AI manage such dryness? Must be because he was British._

_Normally, Clint thought being watched by JARVIS was kind of creepy, but here in the workshop while he down under, the electronic butler felt like an extension of Tony and so his praise was really just like Tony’s._

_“Want to do something else for me?”_

_Clint nodded with more enthusiasm this time. Tony’s tasks were easy and fun, but they still made him feel useful despite all that._

_Tony handed him a rag and bottle and then turned towards the timeout corner. “Dum-E, U, Butterfingers, timeout’s over. You can come out now! Clint over here will oil your joints and polish you. Even though none of you deserve it!”_

_The bots shook off their dunce caps and zoomed over happily, not at all put off by Tony’s disparaging commentary. They practically vibrated with excitement as they circled Clint, inspecting him curiously and chirping loudly to each other and to him._

_Tony pointed to each bot in turn and introduced them. Each bot stuck out its claw-camera-head thing in an obvious greeting. Clint “shook hands” with them in turn._

_Clint picked Dum-E first since he was closest and started scrubbing off the grime._

_An hour later, the bots were practically gleaming and Clint was dirty and drooping with exhaustion. It was as if the bots and Clint had simply exchanged their situations. Ah, how the tables have turned!_

_“Wow, they probably never looked this good even when they were new!” The bots beeped in agreement and twirled around to show off their new shininess. “Hey, you look like you’re kind of flagging. I can walk you up to your bedroom door or you could rest here on the sofa. The sofa’s Tony Stark tested by the way. I sometimes sleep on it when I’m taking a break from an engineering binge, probably more often than Pepper would like.”_

_Clint took a few steps towards the kind of ratty-looking couch on one side of the workshop. It did look pretty comfy. But he was suddenly starting to feel really cold. Did the temperature drop in the workshop? That couldn’t be, right? Oh. Oh, no. This was what the beginning of a drop felt like. But everything had been going so well! Clint wrapped his arms around himself to stave off the inevitable, knowing it was useless when the coldness he was feeling had nothing to do with the temperature._

_Tony noticed, of course he did. Clint was shivering uncontrollably at this point. He felt like the worst. Tony had brought him down here into his most treasured place and helped him out and now Clint was just being useless and needy and broken and—_

_“Hey, is it okay if I hold you?”_

_Clint felt a lot safer with Tony now than at the start of this whole thing so he nodded agreement. Tony pushed away from his worktable and gently guided Clint towards the sofa. He sat down first and then pulled Clint into the spot by his side. He grabbed an absolutely enormous fuzzy blanket from a basket on the side and threw it over the both of them. Once settled, Tony began dragging his fingers through Clint’s hair and murmuring soft words of praise._

_Clint drifted off to_ such an awesome helper, really showed those bots how it’s done, great job…

 

 

 

 

Now that it had been seen, it couldn’t be unseen.

Everywhere Clint turned, there was Bucky and Tony together. Tony would say something funny, and then dart a glance towards Bucky, and if Bucky was laughing or even smiling, Tony would light up. If Tony was in one of his manic phases and trying to wind a teammate up with barbed words because he wasn’t fit for company, Bucky could make him quiet down with just a touch or a look.

What really took the cake was when Bucky brought Tony coffee and Tony actually _blushed_. Even Clint couldn’t make Tony blush! And besides, bringing Tony coffee was Clint’s job!

Clint skulked around the Tower for several days, crawling through the vents to spy on Bucky and Tony like a peeping tom, and making himself more and more frantic and upset. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Normally, when he was this worked up, he would go to Tony, but right now, Tony was part of the problem. There was only one solution.

Bright and early, five days after the first scene in the workshop he had witnessed, Clint ran off to SHIELD’s New York HQ, leaving only a vague message as reassurance so Tony wouldn’t come looking for him. He stalked through the corridors to Coulson’s office, channeling his best imitation of Tasha’s Black Widow face so that people would back the fuck off.

The sight of Coulson doing paperwork was so reassuringly constant that Clint let a little of the tension he had been bottling up the last few days seep from his body.

Coulson had looked up at his entrance and now those perceptive eyes quickly flicked over his face and his body posture, no doubt reading everything. After he finished his assessment, he asked, “What brings you here, Agent Barton?”

“I would like to request a mission, sir,” Clint said stoically, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Coulson.

Coulson didn’t even have the decency to pretend to look through mission files. After a deliberate pause, he said placidly, “There are no available missions requiring your skillset.”

Well, Clint would just have to distract himself with something else. He gave a brisk nod in understanding and turned to leave, but was stopped by a soft command, “Stay.”

Clint turned back to face his handler with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Sit.” Coulson’s commands were always quiet, but with a steel in them that demanded obedience. So different from Tony’s, which were— _don’t think about Tony_ _now_.

Clint sat down in the chair across from Coulson’s desk.

“Would you like to explain why you want a mission when you seemed so eager for downtime just yesterday?”

Clint felt oddly like a kid sitting in the principal’s office. Not that he would really know, what with having spent so very little time in school. And now he was just stalling.

If Clint thought he could outwait Coulson, he would, but Coulson never got angry or impatient, never even shifted in his seat or cleared his throat. Clint knew he was going to cave under the unrelenting gaze sooner or later, but he really didn’t want to admit his own insecurities.

After a few minutes of silence and fidgeting on Clint’s part, he finally spoke, “Did you know, Tony’s few long-term relationships were always with Doms before me?” Not where he expected to start, but it was as good a place as any.

“Yes.” So matter-of-fact. So simple.

Coulson’s calm gaze propelled a few more words out of Clint. “I mean don’t you think that’s a little bit of a coincidence? He only dates Doms, and then he picks me up when he’s on hormone therapy?” Clint snorts and then scrubs his face tiredly. “Well, now he’s off his meds.”

“As your handler, I’m hardly qualified to give you any advice on this matter.”

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to dump—”

Coulson raised his hand. “Please let me finish. As your friend, I will try my best.”

Despite his inner turmoil, Coulson’s words still soothed something inside him.

“Now, has Tony changed his behavior? Towards you? Towards your relationship?”

Clint shook his head. “I mean he gets into fewer fights with Steve. And um, we can’t do some things we used to when I go down, but that’s not such a big deal.”

“So what brought on these doubts?”

Clint scratched the back of his neck, unsure how best to explain what he saw. He blurted out, “I saw them. Him and Bucky. In the workshop.”

Coulson’s brow furrowed and his eyes grew hard. “Stark was cheating on you?”

“What? No!” Now Clint just felt embarrassed. He’d seen a few things that anybody else would have ignored and been overreacting ever since. Worst Sub ever.

Coulson looked relieved. Probably glad he didn’t have to Taser a man he actually generally liked. “Then what?”

“He, um—fuck, this is stupid, _I’m_ stupid.” Clint slouched down in his seat in frustration.

Coulson said firmly, “You are not stupid. You have the best eyes of anyone I know. If you say you saw something, I believe you. Now tell me what you saw.”

Somewhat bolstered by the praise, Clint launched into a detailed retelling of everything he had observed. Coulson didn’t immediately jump into reassuring platitudes, which actually comforted Clint more than if he had.

After some thought, Coulson finally said, “I don’t think it’s unusual to respond to people outside of your relationship. After all, you still like it when I praise you. Then again, you and I have a long-standing professional friendship, so that’s not exactly the best comparison. I do think Tony probably isn’t even aware of how he’s responding, and if you talk to him about your concerns, he’ll probably police himself more carefully.”

Clint sighed. What Coulson said made sense. After all, Tony had a history of being a very faithful, monogamous lover. It was usually the other half of the equation that messed things up and left him. Tony could be an asshole, but he wasn’t a cheating asshole. Still, Coulson’s solution of talking it out was the last thing he wanted to do. Clint never wanted to talk things out, especially not his feelings.

“It’s not like he’s actually gone under for Bucky or slept with him. If I tell him about a few looks or a totally _not_ inappropriate touch or a fucking blush, he’s going to think I’m some jealous psycho trying to control him like his exes.” He sighed, “Fuck, I’m so pathetic. I’m just blowing things out of proportion. I should trust him more.”

“Clint. Stop. Has Tony ever dismissed your concerns or belittled you for expressing your opinions?”

Clint shook his head mutely.

“If you hide your feelings from him, they’re just going to build until they explode. Probably at the worst time possible.”

Clint nodded. Being logical was all well and good, but—“Can I stay here? Just for a little longer?”

Coulson immediately softened. “Of course. Stay here as long as you like. Actually, if you’re here, you might as well help me with paperwork.”

Clint groaned. “That almost makes staying here not worth it.”

Coulson’s grin looked a little evil as he said, “Well, nothing’s free. Time to pay the piper, Barton.” He hauled a stack of files from a box hidden behind the desk and let them drop in front of Clint. “These are the first-time reports made by our most junior agents. Have fun editing.”

Clint grimaced. First-time reports always had a bunch of typos and other tedious mistakes. However, fair was fair, so he grabbed a red felt-tip pen and started making the pages bleed.

The hours slipped by with the occasional coffee break. Clint’s back and neck ached from sitting hunched over forms, so he gave up on decorum, grabbed the files, and slipped down to the floor behind Coulson’s desk so that he was obstructed from view if anybody came in. How Coulson managed to keep powering through with only the occasional twitch or stretch was beyond Clint. No wonder why half the agents of SHIELD thought Coulson was an android.

The sound of the office door swinging open was enough to startle Clint out of his intense staring contest with the squiggly words in front of him. The unique swaggering quality of the entering steps alerted Clint to the visitor’s identity. Tony.

Coulson appeared completely unsurprised and unruffled at the intrusion. He just put down his pen, clasped his hands together, and asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?”

“You shouldn’t give me an opening like that. Why, the possibilities are endless! Let’s start with your Taser and how I can make it more awesome. Or, ooh, tell me how you came back from the dead. Or, how about—”

“Mr. Stark” said in Coulson’s even tone was enough to stop Tony’s rambling. That was practically a superpower.

“Okay, fine, ruin my fun why don’t you. I just wanted to know what’s up with our favorite archer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where is he? What’s he doing? I mean, he tells me he’s got urgent stuff to do at SHIELD, so I checked out of simple curiosity, and there’s no mission, no summons, nada.” He took a deep breath before he could continue, but then he paused and started sniffing the air. “Wait, he’s—” Tony strode towards the desk and peered over it.

Clint froze when his eyes met Tony’s. He suddenly felt like a child caught in the middle of making trouble and only seconds away from punishment. He expected disappointment or anger, so he was surprised by the relief that settled on Tony’s face.

“Oh, good. You’re here. With Coulson. That’s good.” Tony dragged a hand across his face. “Now I feel stupid for thinking you were kidnapped or wrapped up in some SHIELD conspiracy.”

Clint felt like absolute shit. Of course with Tony’s resources and imagination and paranoia—which was totally justified—the flimsy excuse he left as a message would have inspired all kinds of worst-case scenarios.

“Um, well, I’ll let you get back to paperwork. Heh, look at you being all responsible and helping Agent. I, uh, I’ll be back in the Tower if you’re done and you want to get food later or, uh, something.” Tony scrunched his fingers into his hair awkwardly and started backing towards the door. “I’ll just be going now. Bye, Agent. And Clint.”

Clint couldn’t let Tony leave like this, feeling foolish and like he had overstepped his bounds, when Clint was the one who had been trying to hide. He scrambled up from his position on the floor and said, “Actually, I’m done.”

Tony turned back. “Really? Okay, well, that’s good.”

Clint glanced at Coulson, searching for permission, confirmation, reassurance?—whatever it was he wanted, Coulson gave him a nod of encouragement.

The drive back to the Tower was mostly silent. Tony would occasionally blurt out an odd observation or a wacky idea before trailing off.

After a particularly long stretch of silence, Tony finally said, “Look, I’m sorry. That was really weird. I just don’t want you to think I’m being super possessive or anything like that, you know, with the checking up on you and stuff. I just thought, hey, food might be a good idea, which is rare, I know, but occasionally even I cave to mortal needs and whatnot. Anyway, I saw your message and it was kind of vague, which totally wasn’t your fault, I’m just nosy. I worked myself up for no reason. And just, you know I don’t care about you spending time with Coulson. I’m not trying to control you or your life or whatever.” Tony took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to stop talking.

Clint felt almost physically ill. Tony was the least possessive and controlling Dom ever, but here he was falling over himself apologizing for a situation that Clint had set up. And Clint had repaid Tony’s kindness by being an insecure bitch about their relationship. If anything, Clint was the one who was possessive and controlling, getting jealous over nothing.

“I don’t think that at all! It’s not you, it’s—” Clint cut himself off before he could utter that trite platitude. It was no use though, if the dismay and resignation creeping into Tony’s eyes were any indication. “I sometimes get silly ideas. Anyway, I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tony shrugged off the apology. “That’s okay. Um,” he hesitated, “you know you don’t need to make up a reason to visit Coulson, right? Not that I’m accusing you of anything if that’s not what you were doing, but just, if you were, you don’t have to.”

“I just wanted to get out of the Tower for a bit and see someone that wasn’t an Avenger, but I thought if I just left without a message, you might think something was wrong.”

“Oh, okay. Is something wrong? Have I—has somebody on the team done something?”

Clint shook his head. “Just wanted a change of scenery, that’s all.”

Tony didn’t look particularly reassured. They subsided into a silence that was fraught with things unsaid and unresolved. Clint started tapping his leg nervously and wondered why this time a trip they made all the time seemed to take so long.

And because Clint couldn’t leave things well enough alone, he had to break the uncomfortable silence, “Do you miss it?” At Tony’s questioning hum, he forced himself to continue, “Being taken down? Subbing?”

Surprise flittered across his face before it was hidden quickly. “Um, not really? I mean, being a, uh, Switch isn’t really like being both at the same time, it’s more like an either-or thing. When I’m with a Sub, I’m basically in Dom mode so I don’t suffer drops or anything like that. And when I’m with a Dom, I’m a Sub. And then when I’m not with anyone, I kind of get a bit of both worlds? I’m not sure, um, just, where exactly is this coming from?”

“I was just wondering.”

Tony looked skeptical but didn’t push.

Clint was going to drop it—he would have a few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago—but Coulson’s words about open communication nagged at him. He tried to mentally prepare himself ( _just say it calmly, say what you saw, don’t accuse)_ and when that didn’t work, he let the words tear from his lips like ripping off a bandage. “I was crawling around in the vents earlier and I watched you while you were fixing Bucky’s arm.”

Clint watched Tony’s face carefully for his reaction while trying to seem like he wasn’t watching. He knew what he wanted to see—amusement, fondness, teasing—but all he saw was deliberate blankness.

“Oh?”

Clint didn’t know how to say what he saw without sounding stupidly jealous or accusatory or both. “So that’s why I asked if you missed it.”

Tony’s face became even harder to read. After a pause that opened between them like the maw of some silent beast, Tony finally said, “Nothing happened.”

The maw gaped wider. “Did you want something to happen?”

After a shocked pause, Tony exploded. “What are you asking? Are you—no! No, I did not want something to happen! How could you—I’d never hurt you like that!” Now the silence was wounded.

Clint wished he could take his words back. But since turning back time wasn’t a possibility, the only thing he could do was move forward. He needed to choose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t blame you, not really, if you had wanted something to happen.”

“And what does that mean?” The words were angry, aggressive, but Clint could hear that behind all the bluster, Tony was completely lost.

“Maybe I can’t fulfill all your needs. I mean, I’m only a Sub, and you’re both.”

“Wait, are you—you’re saying I can’t be faithful because of my presentation?” There was an ocean of betrayal and outraged hurt behind his words.

Clint winced. As usual, he was shit with words. He knew Tony’s presentation was a touchy subject and if he didn’t handle this carefully, he would lose all of Tony’s trust. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just thought that maybe you just need different things, or, um, more.”

Tony squeezed the wheel so hard his knuckles popped white against his tanned skin. If Clint hadn’t seen Tony pilot the suit in battle with a concussion, he would have been worried about them crashing.

In a low voice, Tony said slowly, “So, you’re saying my presentation makes me either a special snowflake or a greedy bastard. You said, when I told you, _you said_ that being a Switch didn’t make me any less of a Dom, didn’t change the way that you, as a Sub, saw me. Was that a lie?”

Fuck, Clint was just making it worse and worse. “No! That was all true.”

“Then what do you want from me?!”

“Nothing!” Clint cried out, frantic.

Tony immediately drew back from him and it was like all the warmth in the space between them was gone. In a dead voice, he said, “Oh, well, then…I see.”

 _No!_ Clint wanted to shout. _You don’t see at all! How could you, when even I don’t know what I’m asking you, where I’m going with all this?_

But they were already parked. Tony climbed out and walked off towards the elevator without waiting for Clint, his back a line of rejection.

Clint sat there, numb. How had it gone so wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a happy ending, so don't fret! Up next is an exploration of what exactly it means for Tony to be a Switch in the context of this story. And the whole hormone therapy and meds situation will be explained, too. I'll talk more about it in the next chapter's notes. :)
> 
> I am open to the idea of one-shots after this story is over, so feel free to give suggestions either through comments or my tumblr: http://cat-zy.tumblr.com


	2. You're Gonna Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for the incredibly long wait. This past semester neuroscience and cognition classes have been killer, so I kind of stopped writing for several months. Now that it's the summer, I can finally catch up on the enormous backlog of fic I planned to write. Anyways, I've already started on chapter 3. Thanks for so patiently waiting. Hopefully, the wait has been worth it.

_Clint usually felt like he’d been put through a grinder and then run over several times by a shipping truck the day after a drop he got through by himself. He woke up feeling surprisingly okay. That was the first sign that something was wrong. The second and third were the couch that wasn’t his own underneath him and the warm body pressed up against him. But despite all the strangeness, the situation didn’t feel threatening. Odd._

_As per SHIELD training, Clint held still, hoping that whoever was beside him wouldn’t realize he was awake, so that he could continue to assess his surroundings._

_“Oh hey, you’re awake.”_

_Okay, so much for that plan. He recognized the voice, so the plan was unnecessary anyways. No threat._

_Clint blinked his eyes open to see dark eyes gazing warmly down at him. He croaked, his voice rusty after being unused for a while, “Yeah.”_

_“You feeling okay?” Tony—no, Stark—asked. Fuck._

_Clint thought he had the Tony Stark pinned down in a tidy box, but now all the lines were blurry and the name “Stark” felt awkward. Stark was a fellow teammate who had helped save the world from aliens, the team’s benefactor who housed and fed them, and the Tower’s resident annoying genius. Tony was the guy who had led Clint through a down sweet and easy and never asked for anything in return. Clint sat up and tried to put some distance between them so that he could see better, get some perspective._

_Clint cleared his throat and said, “Yeah. I’m okay.”_

_Even though it wasn’t much, Stark—no, Tony—smiled at his response. Shit. Fine. Okay. Stark was now Tony. Screw the lines. Clint could call whoever whatever he liked in his own mind._

_“You sleep any?”_

_Were they going to do small talk now? As if one of the most momentous events of Clint’s life hadn’t just happened last night? It was surreal._

_“Nah. I wanted to make sure you were okay. You fell asleep before I could tell if you were out of your drop or not.”_

_Clint scratched the back of his neck. Tony’s kindness felt like something he should have picked up earlier if he really had eyes as good as he claimed. “Um, thanks, for all that.”_

_“No problem. It was my pleasure.” Tony clapped his hands together before saying, “So, I just wanted to check in and see if everything we did last night was okay by your books. Did I ask you to do anything you wouldn’t have agreed to in your normal frame of mind?”_

_Clint thought about last night. Tony had respected Clint’s boundaries and never pushed. Even though Clint had been mostly nonverbal like he usually was when he was down, Tony had still understood everything Clint had wanted him to. And in the end, all Clint had done was test some of Tony’s phones and clean his bots. No pain. No sex._

_“No, everything was good.”_

_The last bit of tension across Tony’s shoulders loosened at Clint’s words. “Good, good. Awesome. Okay, one last thing.” Tony took a deep breath and then asked, “Would you be okay with doing it again? With me?”_

_Clint stared at him, shocked speechless. Last night had been an anomaly. Clint hadn’t subbed for a Dom in decades. And he had never, ever subbed for a Dom willingly. And now Tony was asking him to submit deliberately, to plan for the next time, like all of this was normal or something! To be fair, this_ was _normal, but for other people, not for Clint._

_In the silence, Tony’s eyes roved over his face. Whatever he saw there shut down his hopeful expression. “Ah, I see.” After a moment, Tony brightened in what was obviously a cover for his disappointment. “Don’t worry, I know how to take no for an answer. You okay with being friends, though?”_

_Clint hadn’t even outright said no and Tony was already backpedaling. He would have thought a Dom as handsome, wealthy, and powerful as Tony wouldn’t know how to take no for an answer simply because no one had ever given him no for an answer. Seemed like there was a lot Clint didn’t know about Tony. And now, he kind of wanted to find out._

_Besides, he knew he was going drop again in a month or so without a Dom and he had gotten used to having Coulson around—he didn’t want to have to go back to being alone again. There was no one else he trusted. Except maybe Tasha. She was a Neutral, like Coulson. Only problem was that he had tried to go under for Tasha a while back and the experience had left the both of them shaky for a whole week afterwards._

_So, why not say yes? Clint had always been reckless._

_Clint shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?” Tony smiled with genuine satisfaction. “I say yes to being friends and trying again.”_

_It was Tony’s turn to be shocked speechless._

_Clint smirked. “Unless you’re rescinding?”_

_Tony fluttered his hands frantically. “No, no, of course not!”_

_Clint laughed. He’d never met a Dom quite like Tony._

_Tony said mock sternly, “Oh I see, you’re messing with me. Did I give you permission to do that?”_

_Clint buckled down the laughter, playing along. “No, sir.”_

_Tony’s expression became thoughtful. “Is that something you like? Saying sir?”_

_“Not really, I don’t like talking much when I’m down. But it doesn’t bother me if that’s what you like.”_

_“Nah, I don’t really stand on formality. And yeah, I noticed the whole nonverbal thing. We’ll figure out signals later. Okay, so boundaries. And, uh, likes and dislikes. Go.” Tony made an accompanying gesture of encouragement._

_Clint didn’t know, and said as much._

_Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean you don’t know?”_

_Clint scratched his head. “Well, um, last night was the second time I’ve ever subbed for a Dom.”_

_“Wait, what about—oh right, Coulson was a Neutral. Well, I don’t think subbing for a Neutral is all that different from subbing for a Dom. If I may ask, what’d you do with him?”_

_The memories ached, but somehow, Clint didn’t mind telling Tony. “Not much. Paperwork. Editing and filing. Um, I’d clean weapons for him. And organize supplies, sometimes. Once, he even taught me how to do a tea service.”_

_“Hmm, so you’re a service Sub. I figured as much. Well, I don’t drink tea and I have other people to do all that other stuff you mentioned. You were a pretty good lab assistant. Let’s keep doing that, if you’re okay with it?”_

_Clint nodded. Tony had actually made him do real work last night, not just busywork to humor him. Clint liked being useful. And the praise had felt genuine, too._

_“What else can you do? What would you want to do?”_

_“Um, baking, mixing drinks, and, uh, massaging?”_

_Tony whistled. “Wow, you’re really talented. I’ve never been with a service Sub before, and I’m kinda regretting that oversight. But better late than never, right? I almost feel like I’m taking advantage, asking you to pamper me like that. Should I pay you? I feel like I should pay you. Do you want to get paid?”_

_Clint shook his head. “I just like being useful.”_

_“Useful, huh? I get that. So, we’ve covered what you like to do. What about what you don’t like to do? Boundaries? Hard limits?”_

_Clint thought about it very carefully. He and Coulson had never really discussed the details of his submission. Coulson had just asked or ordered him to do things he had willingly done for his job anyway. The tea service had been the only thing Coulson had asked about beforehand._

_“No pain. No sex.” Those were the only hard limits Clint could think of. But they also cut out huge swathes of things most Subs were willing to do, or at least negotiate about. Tony might not want a Sub who did so little, and Clint couldn’t blame him for that._

_“Okay,” Tony said simply. He didn’t demand an explanation or try to cajole Clint to change his mind._

_The agreement came too easy and Clint felt like he_ had _to give a reason, to explain himself. “My parents were Neutrals. And my older brother, Barney, was too. I presented a few years after Barney and I had joined the circus. He didn’t trust the Doms in the circus to not take advantage, with good reason. So, the first time I went under, he freaked out and tried to take care of me himself.”_

_Clint looked up to gauge Tony’s reaction. Tony was completely still, dark eyes serious and intensely focused on Clint._

_Clint took a deep breath and continued before he lost his nerve, “But Barney didn’t know anything about being a Dom. Thought it was all chains and whips. So he tied me up and borrowed a horsewhip from the animal trainers. And, well, you can guess how that turned out. He left the circus and me not long after. Who knows if the two things are related? Either way, once he was gone, I was free game for, um, Swordmaster, who was a Dom, and well, yeah. So that’s why. No pain. No sex.”_

_Clint’s throat felt parched after spilling his sordid past. He was ready for any kind of reaction: pity, over-the-top sympathy, awkward avoidance—anything._

_Tony said solemnly, “Thank you for trusting me.”_

_Yeah, maybe Clint hadn’t been ready for calm acceptance, but somehow, it was exactly what he needed._

People thought Clint liked high places because he was taking his codename too seriously. The reality was that his preference for hard to reach places had been born from necessity. It had been the only thing that had saved him from Doms in the circus and on the road when he had been too far under to protect himself. He would hole up and ride through his drop like a bad trip.

After he had joined SHIELD and become a professional sniper, high places had only further been cemented as safe places. Now, going up to the highest point whenever he was distressed was just habit. And he was distressed as fuck right now.

Clint and Tony had quarreled in the past over things big and small, but Tony had never walked away from him. Never. The fact that Tony had done so today—Clint didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be anything good.

He’d been up on the roof of the Tower for hours, but his mind still hadn’t stopped spinning in circles, questions and self-recriminations crashing into each other. He had talked, like Coulson had suggested, but he was shit at talking. He should have planned things out and practiced instead of bumbling along and making Tony feel attacked.

But behind all the self-doubt, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he wasn’t in the wrong this time. Tony hadn’t reacted like a man with nothing to hide. But then again, maybe he had just been appalled by Clint’s doubt in him. Clint blew out his breath in a big sigh. He didn’t know what to do now. He hadn’t ever had a relationship before—and honestly, he didn’t even know if he still had one after their argument.

The door to the roof opened behind him. Clint turned around to see Tony walking towards him. Tony’s eyes were a tumult of emotions—uncertainty, embarrassment, discomfort, fear—that was quickly hidden underneath a mask of steely determination.

They stood facing each other, staring awkwardly.

“So—”

“Well, I—”

Their voices clamored over each other. When they each realized the other was also speaking, they stopped and stared some more. After a long stretch of silence, Clint gestured for Tony to go ahead.

“Uh, well, this is really awkward. Is there some way to make I’m-sorry-I-fucked-up conversations not awkward? Because you know, I am, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you. Or leave. I never should have done that.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but at least Tony was apologizing. Tony almost never said sorry, so Clint knew how important it was that Tony was doing so now.

“Okay. Um.” Tony fidgeted restlessly. “About Bucky, I, uh.” Tony’s whole body was winding up tighter and tighter. “Um, can we sit?”

“Of course.” Clint grabbed Tony’s hands and dragged him down so they were sitting side by side.

Tony took a deep breath and stopped fidgeting. After a short, internal battle, he held his arms open with a painfully hopeful expression in his eyes. Clint couldn’t hurt Tony by rejecting so guileless an offer, so he scooted closer and let Tony hold him.

“Okay, now tell me about Bucky.” Maybe now they were going to have the talk they should have had earlier.

For a long moment, Tony didn’t speak. When he finally did, the words spilled out in a barely controlled outpour. “You know, I thought I was safe. What I told you earlier, about how a Switch is either-or, not both—well, that is true, or at least it used to be true for me. I figured since I was dating you, you know, since I was your Dom, no other Dom could affect me.”

Clint nodded. So little was known about Switches. What Clint knew came from Tony and the little bit of research he’d been able to scrounge up. And what Tony knew must have come from his own past experiences.

Tony continued, “At first it was so subtle, I didn’t even notice it, the fact that Bucky can always calm me down. And when I finally did notice, I thought it was just him, like maybe he exuded calm vibes or whatever. But he didn’t have that effect on anyone else. So that meant it was a him-and-me thing. But I honestly didn’t think it was because he was a Dom and I was reacting to that. I mean, I hardly know him. I’ve known Bruce and Steve for way longer and they’ve never had a calming effect on me, in fact, with Steve, it’s the opposite.”

Clint snorted at the Steve comment and Tony cracked a weak, but real smile.

“I didn’t mean to freak out on you earlier. I honestly hadn’t realized that I was going Sub for Bucky. It’s so obvious in hindsight but I probably purposefully didn’t connect the dots because I knew that it would just fuck everything up. But I couldn’t fool myself anymore when you started asking questions. The realization hit me like a sucker punch. It felt like just another instance of Tony Stark getting fucked over by his presentation. And so I panicked and got defensive. Sorry.”

Clint smiled. “Two apologies in one conversation. That’s a new record for you.”

Tony scoffed. “I’m spilling my heart out over here, Birdie, and that’s all you’ve got?”

Clint chuckled a little at Tony’s ridiculous pout. He sobered before saying, “Now what? What does this mean for us?”

Tony said seriously, “I don’t know. I’d understand if you want to take a break or, uh,” here, he took a shuddering breath, “break up.”

Clint stared at Tony in shock. Yeah, sure, before Tony had come up to apologize, Clint had worried that their relationship was over. But Tony was here now. And nothing about what he had said was unforgiveable. Tony said he hadn’t consciously realized what he’d been doing with Bucky, and Clint believed him. Tony had never lied to him, maybe by omission (about the last time had eaten or slept), but certainly never to his face. Tony hadn’t actually cheated or anything. Their relationship was certainly not too broken to be fixed—in fact, there was nothing wrong with it that a little communication couldn’t smooth over.

Clint recovered from his shock and socked Tony in the arm. Before Tony could complain, he asked, “So, that’s it? You’re not even going to try? Is giving up on us so easy?”

“No!” Tony cried out, startled. “No,” he continued, more subdued, “I just meant I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to be with me anymore. Of course I don’t want to lose you! Nothing about losing you would be easy. But I’m the one who fucked up. I promised you that being a Switch didn’t mean I couldn’t be a good Dom, but now it seems I was a fucking liar.”

Clint could hear the despair and self-loathing in Tony’s voice. And yeah, Clint had self-esteem issues, he knew that, but Tony was the king of self-esteem issues. Tony’s presentation had always been a sore spot for him, and it was easy to see how Tony might think it had ruined their relationship irreparably.

“Hey now, none of that. Just because you found out something you thought to be a hard fact for Switches isn’t true anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t a good Dom, okay? You’ve always taken good care of me, I’ve got no complaints. This is just a little road bump, okay? Now you know that the Dom in Bucky affects you. So, we’re both on the same page and we can move forward.”

Tony snuggled Clint closer. “Really, just move forward? That easy?”

Clint smiled. “Yep. That easy.”

 

 

 

 

_Clint never thought he could be this happy after Loki and Coulson, but somehow, he was. He had shared several downs with Tony by this point and each one was even better than the last. Somewhere, between one down and the next, Clint had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Tony never pushed. Man, if all Doms were like Tony, Clint would have tried going down for one a lot earlier._

_Their closeness during downs had also translated to their new budding friendship. He was the only one of the Avengers, other than Tony’s Science Bro, who had full access to the workshop outside of emergencies. Together, they brainstormed better ideas for Clint’s arrows. And even though Clint was no engineer, Tony tried to explain his inventions anyways. They grabbed meals together and watched movies together outside of Avengers meals and movie nights._

_Slowly, the Avengers were also becoming closer. Clint and Tasha were rock solid, Clint and Tony were getting there, and Clint was slowly warming up to Steve and Bruce. Tasha was cordial and politely friendly with everyone who wasn’t Clint, though she was still somewhat wary of Bruce. Bruce and Tony got along like a house on fire, but Bruce was very tentative with everyone else. Tony made overtures of friendship to everyone in his own abrasive way. And of course, Steve was like a particularly patriotic puppy who was nice to everyone._

_Everyone was slowly migrating towards becoming a true team. Well, everyone except Steve and Tony. Those two fought like two mangy alley cats over the last fishbone. Steve tried to overcome their mutual hostility with stiff politeness, but that only rubbed Tony the wrong way even further. And Tony tried to bulldoze through their problems in his usual brash way, which of course did little to endear him to Steve. The rest of team watched their spats with a mixture of weary amusement and annoyance._

_Just this morning at breakfast, Tony had wandered in after an all-night binge and made some throwaway comment that Steve had taken offense to. Tony had then taken offense to Steve’s offense. And then they had been off, hissing and spitting. Well, not actually, but you get the picture. Clint had been half asleep before they had started arguing, so he wasn’t really sure what they had been fighting about. Though Tasha and Bruce had both been wide awake and they hadn’t seemed any more enlightened than Clint, so…_

_Anyways, now Clint was up in the vents above Tony’s workshop, trying to see if Tony wanted to be left alone or if his dark mood could be improved by one of Clint’s crazy ideas. Tony was currently muttering angrily to himself. Clint had expected Tony to try to funnel his rage into creativity, or at least start banging on some sheet metal, but no—instead, Tony was rummaging through a drawer._

_Tony finally pulled out a pill bottle and dry swallowed a pill. Wait, what? Tony had no medications on file and those were definitely not vitamins. Was Tony sick? And keeping it a secret from the rest of the team? Clint remembered reading Tasha’s report of her time undercover at SI. Tony had been dying from palladium poisoning and hadn’t even told his closest friends, Potts and Rhodes. Was this a repeat of that? Maybe Clint shouldn’t have been so hasty to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop._

_Before Clint could drown under a barrage of worries, he told himself to get it together. The pills might be totally harmless. Way to turn a molehill into a mountain, Barton. He wasn’t a spy for nothing. This called for a little investigating._

_Clint waited and was rewarded when Tony left, presumably for bed, a few hours later. Clint dropped down from the vent and made his way over to the drawer. He opened it with only the faintest twinge of guilt for trespassing on Tony’s privacy. He pulled out the pill bottle and nearly dropped it in shock at the label._

_Rodoxin-D? This drug had come out on the market a few years ago and made big waves. It was intended to reassign presentations, or more accurately, to give Subs or Neutrals, depending on the dosage, enough Dom hormones to present as Dom. It was still extremely controversial, came with a long list of side effects, and required a psychiatrist’s approval for a prescription._

_Did this mean Tony wasn’t biologically a Dom? But how had he hidden this for so long? The drug hadn’t even been invented when Tony had been a teenager, and the media had certainly been sure of his presentation since then. Clint’s mind was reeling. What did this mean?_

_That last question swirled through his mind as he went through the rest of his day in a daze. He thought about going to Tasha, but even though he trusted her with his life, he wasn’t sure he should break Tony’s trust further by telling her Tony’s secret._

_Clint thought about directly confronting Tony, but Clint was terrible at confrontation. Besides, he wasn’t sure if Tony would even give him a straight answer, or be so angry about the privacy violation as to derail the entire discussion. Clint was kind of unclear about who had more of a right to be angry. On one hand, Tony had hidden this momentous secret. On the other hand, Clint and Tony weren’t technically in a relationship. Besides, was this even something that one person had to tell another even if they were in a relationship? Clint had never been in a relationship so he had no clue._

_The matter came to a head a week later. Despite Clint’s best efforts to hide his turmoil, Tony called him out on his permanently distracted state after the third time Clint had handed him the wrong tool in as many minutes._

_“What’s going on with you? You’ve been off all week. Don’t tell me you pulled a prank on Red Scare and now you’re waiting for her prolonged and underhanded vengeance?”_

_Clint laughed despite himself. “You know me so well, but no.”_

_“Then what?” Tony’s face softened from joking to serious. “Clint, what’s wrong? You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here to listen if you want.”_

_Wow, pulling out the big guns. Tony almost never called Clint by his actual first name. Clint’s guilt worsened in the face of Tony’s sincerity. Clint dreaded what discussion—argument, perhaps—might follow if he brought up the pill bottle he had discovered. But after a week of stewing in endlessly spiraling questions, doubts, worries, and various other stormy emotions, Clint was no surer of how he felt about his discovery. Maybe it was time to come clean._

_Clint’s eyes strayed to the damnable drawer where he knew the pill bottle lay before returning to meet Tony’s warm eyes. Clint took a deep breath and said as steadily as he could, “After your catfight with Steve a week ago, I came down to see if you could use some cheering up.”_

_“Wait, when was this? I fight with Capsicle all the time.” Tony’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall the exact instance Clint had brought up. “Hmm. Oh, oh! You mean that—okay, gotcha. I don’t remember you coming down after.”_

_“I was in the vents.” Clint waited to see if Tony might understand what Clint had seen without the need for Clint to spell it out._

_“Well, why didn’t you come out? I wasn’t doing anything important. And besides, you’re always welcome even if I am doing something important, you—” Tony suddenly froze and all the color drained out of his skin._

_Yeah. So now they were on the same page, but fuck if Clint knew where to go from here._

_“Wait, before you say anything, I just want to be totally honest and say that I couldn’t actually see the label from the vents. I got worried it was like the palladium poisoning thing all over again, so I took a better look up close. I’m not sorry for worrying about you, but I am sorry for snooping.”_

_Tony shook himself out of his stupor. “Okay. Fine. I could rant and rave about privacy, but I was the one who invited spies to live with me, so I can’t complain too much. And record this because I’ll never say it again: you’re right to be paranoid about me keeping potentially fatal secrets since there is precedence. So, apology accepted.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_They both let out a sigh of relief. They were off to a good start in the whole having mature adult conversations department—especially considering their teammates often called them children. So far there was no screaming or slammed doors or anybody looking like they needed to dive into a bottle of liquor. Though, to be fair, a glass of whiskey might bring back the rest of Tony’s color._

_“So…Rodoxin-D?”_

_Tony winced at the name of the drug. “Look, you’re probably thinking I’m actually a Sub or a Neutral, but I’m not.”_

_Even though Clint was surprised because yes, that was what he had thought, Clint trusted that Tony was being honest with him right now. “Okay, I believe you. But why the pills then?”_

_Tony’s nervous fidgeting became infinitely worse. Tony bit his lip as various emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession—fear, guilt, shame, anger, resignation. Clint waited patiently through it all._

_Tony finally released all his pent up energy in a violent gust of air. “Okay. Okay. I—have you ever heard of Switches?”_

_Clint’s brow furrowed as he thought hard. “I think so? Like, someone who isn’t a Neutral, but not a Dom or Sub either. But I thought that was a myth.”_

_Tony winced. “Yeah, that’s usually people’s reaction to the mention of Switches.”_

_“So…you’re saying you are one?”_

_Tony nodded. His dark eyes watched Clint warily. Clint kind of wanted to punch whoever had put that look in his eyes. Sure, he didn’t really understand what being a Switch entailed, but if Tony said he was one, Clint believed him. What was the big deal? But Clint knew how horrible people could be and maybe Tony had been burned before about this._

_Clint said, “Okay. I believe you.” Immediately, some of the tension left Tony’s shoulders. “But I don’t really know what being a Switch means, and what it means to you. Can you tell me? Like, when’d you find out? How’d you find out—like, if nobody’s really heard of it or believes it’s a real thing, then who told you that you were one?”_

_Clint decided to hold off on the rest of the questions and looked expectantly at Tony. Tony looked somewhat overwhelmed but also grateful that Clint was willing to listen._

_“Um, well, it’s a pretty rare presentation and there’s not a lot of professional research about it, so I don’t know all that much either, other than my own experiences. I’ve never met another Switch in my entire life. What it means for me is, well…I can go Dom or Sub. Actually, the only two long-term relationships I’ve had, though I use that term loosely, were with Doms.”_

_Clint’s eyes widened in surprise at that last little tidbit._

_When Clint didn’t react negatively, Tony continued, “My parents were both Neutrals, like yours. I thought I was going to be one, too. But then when I was thirteen, my presentation manifested. I smelled like a Dom and I never went into Sub drop, so I thought, we all thought, okay, I’m a Dom.”_

_Clint smiled at Tony encouragingly when Tony suddenly stopped, as if lost in memory._

_Tony took a breath, returned Clint’s smile with a small one of his own, and said, “But then Sylvia, a long-standing business partner and friend of Dad’s, and her husband, George, who was a Dom, visited the mansion for two weeks. George kept me company while his wife was in business talks with Dad. He was extremely kind and never minded an obnoxious teenager following him around and pretty much all but begging for his attention all the time. And then…one day, I went down without either of us meaning to get me there—without either of us knowing it was even a possibility. You can imagine how happy Dad was about that.”_

_Clint took Tony’s hand in comfort. He knew something about family freaking out._

_“Dad immediately took me to a discrete specialist. After a fuckton of blood tests and psych evals, the doctor said I was a Switch. She explained that I had both Dom and Sub hormones in me in equal measure. She said it was rare, but that there was nothing medically or mentally wrong with me. She said ‘rare’ but Dad heard ‘freak’. Well, he wasn’t going to have a freak for a son. He told me never to tell anyone. If anyone asked, I was a Dom, always was, always will be.”_

_Clint didn’t have any fancy words of comfort, so he just said what was on his mind. “That sucks.”_

_Tony smiled wryly. “Yeah. It sucked. A lot.”_

_Tony looked pretty drained from all that talking about something so deeply hidden. Clint decided Tony needed some cuddles. He herded Tony towards the comfy workshop couch and sat him down, and then crawled into Tony’s lap. Tony’s arms came up instinctively to hold Clint. Clint snuggled in further and felt Tony relax._

_After a while of comfortable silence, Clint asked, “You don’t have to answer this, but if you weren’t allowed to tell anyone you were a Switch and everyone knew you had presented as a Dom, then how’d you have relationships with Doms?”_

_Tony huffed a laugh. “You know same presentation pairings are a thing, right? Sure, a lot of people think they’re weird and unnatural, but at least people think they’re real, which is more than I can say for what people think about Switches.”_

_Clint blushed in embarrassment. He had known about same presentation pairings—in fact, he’d met a few people in such pairs—but he’d kind of forgotten that would be the conclusion people would come to if Tony dated a Dom, rather than the truth._

_Tony continued, “I’m kind of surprised you don’t know about my first Dom. It was huge in the papers. The media still likes to bring it up now and then.”_

_Clint shrugged within the hold of Tony’s arms. “I don’t really read the news. I let Tasha do it and I figure she’ll tell me if something really big pops up.”_

_Tony laughed. Clint quite liked the way Tony’s laughter felt against his back._

_Clint asked, “Why don’t you fill in the details for me? That is, if you want to. I figure there’s no better source for stuff about you than you yourself.”_

_“Sure. So…huh, where to start. Well, after Dad died, I figured, fuck what he wanted. I went on a bender—if you can call something that lasted several months long that. In the midst of all that liver-pickling, I had the dumb idea to shack up with Ty. Tiberius Stone was the son of one of Dad’s old business rivals. Ty was a terrible Dom, nothing like George, but I was too fucked up to care. The tabloids got a hold of some compromising photos. I was too shit-faced to be careful about that kind of stuff. And Ty probably thought the ignominy of being caught with a fellow Dom was well worth everyone knowing that he was Domming the hell out of Tony Fucking Stark.”_

_“Shit. Tell me you dumped that bastard.”_

_“Kinda. Obie—I mean, Stane—put his foot down and said enough was enough. I had my time to grieve and paint the town red. It was time to shape up and become someone who was worthy of inheriting the company. So, I did. I mean, it’s not like I became a monk. As the papers will attest, I was still drinking and sleeping around up until Afghanistan. But I stopped with the drugs. There are whole portions of the eighties I don’t even remember. I started a relationship with Rumiko, who I thought was a perfect Dom, but then it turned out she was putting me under so she could ferret out company secrets. So, that was a wash.”_

_Clint made a wounded noise of sympathy. Tony had the worst luck, possibly even worse than Clint’s._

_Tony laughed bitterly. “You’re probably starting to sense a pattern here. She was even the daughter of a business rival. You would figure I wouldn’t have repeated the same mistake twice. Some fucking genius. I’d actually been dumb enough to tell Rumiko I was a Switch and when I found out what she was doing, she threatened to go to the press.”_

_Clint clutched Tony’s fingers tightly in sympathetic distress._

_Tony petted Clint to soothe him. “Hey, don’t worry. She didn’t go to the press. I don’t know what Stane did, but he took care of it. I mean, sure, I was heartbroken, but I got over it, and hey, at least the company made it through unscathed.”_

_Clint thought it was sad that Tony thought his heartbreak didn’t matter._

_Tony was still speaking, “Stane told me never to tell anyone that I was a Switch. Even Pepper and Rhodey don’t know. I was grateful that he was looking out for me and never harped about my presentation the way my dad did. But now, looking back, the reason he never told me act more like a Dom or stop Subbing was because he could manipulate me even easier when I was down. He was a Neutral, but he’d bring in other Doms to relax me, for my health, he would say, and then extract promises from me when I was under.”_

_Clint had read the files about Stane, and even though he knew that bastard was dead, his fingers still itched for his bow._

_“After Afghanistan, after Stane’s betrayal, I couldn’t bear the thought of ever going under again. I had so much more to lose after Afghanistan. The Iron Man schematics, the arc reactor plans, and all the weapons designs that I’m never going to make but are still locked in my head. Rodoxin-D came out on the market a year or two before Afghanistan, but I never paid it any mind. But after, I knew this was the only way to stop from being so fucking weak. So yeah, that’s my sob story.”_

_Clint knew how Tony felt about Subbing. Since as long as he could remember, Clint had feared his drops and Doms taking advantage. And yeah, sure, Clint had sometimes thought being a Sub was a huge liability, but still… “So, you’re saying being a Sub makes you weak?” Clint turned around to face Tony and challenged, “Do you think I’m weak?”_

_Tony’s hands cupped Clint’s face. “God, no. You’re not weak and I’d never think that. I only meant that Subbing makes_ me _weak. If I asked you for classified SHIELD secrets while you were down, you wouldn’t tell me. The first time I saw you while you were down, you were suspicious as fuck of me. You don’t immediately trust whoever you’re subbing for like a pathetic idiot.”_

_Tony’s last words dripped with poison turned inwards. Clint wished he could take away some of the pain of Tony’s self-hatred._

_Clint’s hands curled around Tony’s face in a mirror image of Tony’s hands around Clint’s face. “Listen to me. You’re not pathetic or an idiot. And you’re definitely not weak. You’re Tony Motherfucking Stark.” Tony laughed a little wetly at that. “You’ve gone through all that shit and you’re still the kindest Dom I’ve ever known.”_

_Tony smiled. “To be fair, I’m the only Dom you’ve ever willingly Subbed for.”_

_Clint punched Tony lightly in the shoulder before hugging him tightly. “Shut up. I’m trying to give you a serious pep talk here.”_

_Tony laughed, more freely and genuinely this time. “Okay, okay.” After a pause, he said with warm solemnity, “Thanks.”_

_Clint pulled them both into a more upright position. There was one last serious matter he had to address. “I heard that there are a lot of major side effects to Rodoxin-D.”_

_Tony met Clint’s heavy gaze and sighed. “Yeah. I mean, thankfully none of the really serious ones like organ failure have been a problem.”_

_“Organ failure?!” Clint burst out, alarmed and incredulous._

_“Hey, I said that wasn’t an issue. You know a lot of meds have really scary warnings that the makers have to report even if the particular side effects only happen to a super small percentage of the people who take them.”_

_“Okay, yeah, I know that. So, what are the effects on_ you _?”_

_Tony said awkwardly, “Um, pretty bad migraines. And nausea. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since I started taking them. Even worse insomnia than I already have. High blood pressure. Irritability and mood swings. You know, nothing too major.”_

_“Christ. And that’s just minor? Wait, irritability and mood swings? Is that why you keep fighting with Steve?”_

_Tony scratched the back of his neck. “Um, maybe? I mean, he might still rub me the wrong way even if I stopped the pills. But, well, since I’ve started taking the pills, Pepper has commented about me getting really aggressive around certain Doms I used to have good relationships with. It sure makes some business meetings kind of awkward.”_

_“Then why are you still taking them? I understand why you started, but it’s been years since Afghanistan, and I’m the last person who should be recommending therapy to anyone, but that honestly might do you better than those pills. It’s not like you want to permanently change your presentation, right?” When Tony shook his head, Clint continued, “Then what’ll change if you stop taking them? Well, other than not having all those side effects and maybe possibly getting on better with Steve?”_

_After a moment of silence, Tony abruptly stood up from the couch. Clint suddenly realized he might have overstepped. Who was he to tell Tony what to do? Before he could start apologizing, Tony went over to the drawer and pulled out the bottle of pills. Tony’s brow furrowed in deep thought as he stared at the bottle. Clint held his breath, afraid to interrupt this moment, this fork in the road, for Tony._

_Finally, after the longest moment, Tony looked up and tossed Clint the bottle. “Why don’t you hold onto those for me? I don’t think I’ll be needing them anymore.”_

_Clint beamed, the warmth of Tony’s trust felt like he had swallowed the sun._

 

 

 

 

Clint nearly shot wide off the mark when Bucky burst in through the archery range door. It was only decades of training that allowed him to hit bullseye despite being so badly startled. He unstrung his old recurve bow before turning to face Bucky. He was surprised to see the other man looking panicked and frantic. The Winter Soldier was on par with Black Widow for keeping his cool. Then again, Bucky wasn’t just the Winter Soldier.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tony. He—”

Clint’s heart immediately jumped into his throat before dropping like a stone into his gut. God, what had happened to Tony? He drew on all of his training to remain calm.

“Where is he?” Clint asked, all business.

Bucky beckoned Clint to follow him and then they were off racing towards the elevator.

In the elevator, Clint asked, “What happened?”

Bucky tried but was having a lot of trouble articulating. “He—I don’t—Tony, he just—”

Clint took a risk and snapped, “I need intel, soldier.” Immediately, Bucky’s spine straightened and Bucky stopped looking like he was going to hyperventilate. “Good. Stay calm. Now, tell me again, what happened?”

“Tony and I were working on one of his cars when he suddenly went down. I swear I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know he could do that. I mean, he’s your Dom. He freaked out and then ran and hid in his bedroom. He’s locked me out. I didn’t know what to do, so I came to find you.”

“You did the right thing,” Clint said.

Internally, Clint was freaking out. They’d just had their conversation about Bucky a few days ago. Clint had thought Tony’s subconscious thing for Bucky was something they could move past after it had been brought to light, but now, it looked like he was very wrong. What did this mean for Tony, for Clint—for them?

_No, focus, Barton, right now it’s not about you. Tony’s in trouble and he needs you._

When they were outside the locked penthouse door, Clint asked JARVIS, “Can you let me in?”

JARVIS replied, “I’m sorry, Master Barton, but Sir has put the room on lockdown.”

“Override beta-alpha-rho.”

“Very well, Master Barton.” The lock on the door clicked open.

Clint turned to Bucky. “Stay out here. I’ll let you know if you can come in.”

Bucky still looked worried, but much calmer now than before. He gave Clint a firm nod.

Clint took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open. He closed it behind him to keep Bucky out just in case Tony reacted badly to seeing him. Clint froze in surprise when he saw how badly the room had been torn apart. It was like a hurricane had gone through their room. Hurricane Tony was still going at it, tossing all of their clothes around as he frantically searched for something, all the while barely stifling aborted sobs of desperation in his throat. Clint ached to see Tony like this.

Clint asked cautiously, “What are you looking for?”

Tony whirled on Clint, finally realizing there was someone else in the room with him. He rushed Clint and then grabbed Clint’s arms with a death grip. He asked, panicky, “Where’d you put it? Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

Tony exclaimed, clearly frustrated, “The bottle of Rodoxin-D I gave you!”

“What? I threw that away ages ago. You said you didn’t need it.”

Tony collapsed on the ground as if struck. “No, no, no,” he cried with horror in his voice, “I need it, I need it.”

Clint crouched down on the ground. He wasn’t sure if touching Tony right now would comfort him or hurt him. “No, you don’t need it.”

“Yes, I do!” Tony started crying in earnest. “I’m a horrible, no good, worthless piece of shit. Those pills make me better. I’m a bad Dom. And a bad Sub. I deserve to be punished.”

Clint struggled against his own Sub instincts. There was a bond between Tony and Clint, and the fact that Tony was in a really bad drop, paired with the overwhelming scent of his distress, was starting to edge Clint into his own sympathetic drop.

Tony suddenly gripped Clint’s hands, looking fervently and earnestly at Clint. “You could punish me. I’ll be better, I promise.”

The thought of punishment, let alone punishing _Tony_ , made Clint sick to the stomach. He needed help. He didn’t know how to calm Tony like this. He had no choice.

Clint called out, hoping his decision wasn’t going to fuck everything up even more, “JARVIS, tell Bucky to come in please.”

At Bucky’s name, Tony stiffened and started shaking his head frantically. “No, JARVIS, don’t—”

But Bucky had already slipped through the door. Bucky’s sharp blue eyes roved over the room, taking in the situation, before settling on Clint and Tony crouched on the floor. Bucky came over and also sat down.

Clint told Bucky, “Please tell Tony he did nothing wrong.”

Bucky nodded. He reached out and gently tilted Tony’s chin up so that their eyes could meet. He said softly, “Clint’s right, you know. You did nothing wrong. You’re good, Tony.”

Tony clearly wanted to believe Bucky’s words, but at the same time, he couldn’t. He turned so he slipped out of Bucky’s grasp and looked at Clint. “No, I’m not. I made Clint a promise and I broke it. I’m a bad Dom.”

Bucky asked Clint, “Do you think Tony is a bad Dom?”

Clint shook his head and croaked, “No. Never.” Clint scooted closer and took ahold of one of Tony’s hands and placed it against the black band around Clint’s throat. “Tony, you’re a good Dom.”

Tony’s eyes still shined with tears, but Clint could see that hope and relief was starting to break out from behind all the despair.

Bucky gently turned Tony’s face back towards him. “See? Clint thinks you’re good. I’d wager, great even.” Clint made an affirmative sound. “And I think the same.”

Bucky opened his arms in offer. It was a move Tony had made with Clint many times. Tony looked longingly at the offer of comfort, but then pulled his eyes away from Bucky and looked at Clint. Clint gave a nod of encouragement. Tony quickly crawled into Bucky’s open arms. The way they fit together so perfectly pulled at something within Clint. But then, Bucky gestured with one arm for Clint to join them. Clint was surprised but took the offer at face value and allowed himself to be embraced along with Tony.

“Shh, you’re gonna be okay.” Bucky crooned.

In this moment, wrapped in warmth and safety, Clint believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously a made up alternate universe where fictional people can be biologically Dom or Sub (or Switch), but I kind of wanted to use it as an analogy for very real issues real people face today. I don't want to get too political (sorry if my liberal is showing too much - feel free to ignore this note if you just want to enjoy the story), but I think bisexuality is less acknowledged than homosexuality and bigenderism is less acknowledged than transgenderism. A lot of people think you can only be either-or, rather than both. Tony's struggle with his presentation, the tabloids and the pills are, I hope, a respectful fictional representation of this. Constructive criticism of this chapter or a respectful discussion of this endnote are welcome. Anyways, thanks for reading!


	3. The Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, another update without waiting several months. Yay!
> 
> We're finally getting into the Bucky/Clint/Tony part of the story.
> 
> Also, for those of you following my other post-apocalyptic WinterIron story that I wrote for ZeeK as part of the WinterIron Spring Fling gift exchange, rest assured that I haven't forgotten or abandoned the story. I've just been on a roll with this one. I'll be returning to that one pretty soon.

_Clint stood at the edge of the Tower’s roof, looking out into the city and seeing nothing. The only thing running through his mind was a mantra of ‘_ Coulson is alive, Coulson is alive, Coulson is alive _’._

_The Avengers had been assembled earlier this by morning by Fury for an important announcement. Clint had expected a mission brief or one of Fury’s rants about property damage, so he’d been slouched in his seat preemptively bored. He had felt stricken by lightning when Coulson had walked in through the door with his familiar gait, in one of his ubiquitous suits, like nothing had happened. Like Clint’s world hadn’t fallen apart after Loki. Clint hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry, to punch Coulson or hug him, so he had done what he was good at. He had run away by climbing into the nearest vent, grabbing a company car, and driving wildly back to the Tower._

_And now, an undeterminable amount of time later, Clint still didn’t know what to do, what to think. Of course, he was practically faint with happy relief that Coulson wasn’t dead, but the betrayal of having this knowledge kept from him cut deeply, so much so that even the happy relief was just another blade underneath his skin._

_He barely noticed when the door to the rooftop opened behind him, still lost in thought. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the scent of metal and grease reached his nose. Tony._

_Clint turned to face Tony._

_There was a trace of uncertainty in Tony’s features, but under Clint’s gaze, that trace disappeared. Tony came closer to Clint and asked, “Are you okay? No, sorry, ignore that. That was a shitty question. Of course you’re not okay. Tell me what you’re thinking?”_

_Clint was far from okay. Right now, he felt like he was never going to be okay again. He knew that was stupid. He’d gotten over every hurdle life had thrown at him so far and he’d get over this, too. Eventually. He was just having trouble seeing that eventually._

_Clint didn’t know how to articulate any of that. It felt like something thick and heavy had taken up permanent residence in his throat._

_Tony must have understood because he said gently, “Come on, let’s go downstairs before you freeze to death and get a drink.” At Clint’s dubious look, Tony elaborated, “No, not that kind of drink. I mean, if you want to get shitfaced, I’m the last person to judge, but I don’t think that’s what you want or need right now. I figure some hot cocoa might do you some good. Jarvis, version 1.0, used to make it for me whenever I felt down. I figure with JARVIS, version 2.0, helping me out, I can’t fuck it up too badly, right?”_

_Clint couldn’t really feel the humor in Tony’s smile, but he knew Tony was trying, and that was enough for now. Tony held out his hand in offer and Clint took it without a second thought. Clint felt lost and small, and he thought maybe Tony could fix that._

_Tony led Clint all the way to the penthouse living room. Clint had been here before, but very rarely. They usually spent their time together in the workshop alone or in the common areas with the rest of the Avengers. Tony settled Clint on the couch. It looked more like modern art than furniture and wasn’t as comfortable as the old stuffy one in the workshop. If Clint hadn’t already known that Tony spent very little time in the penthouse and practically all his time in the workshop, the couch would have been a clue._

_Tony met Clint’s eyes. “Hey, you good if I leave you for a bit and attempt some hot cocoa? Hopefully without blowing up the kitchen. But hey, I’m due for my weekly minor explosion.”_

_Clint almost thought he could have laughed this time. Instead, he just nodded wordlessly._

_“Alright. Awesome.”_

_Tony kissed him lightly on the forehead before heading off to the kitchen. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. While Clint sat there staring off into nothing, he heard Tony asking JARVIS how to make explosion-free hot cocoa and JARVIS making fun of his creator in that dry British way of his._

_A few minutes later, without even a minor fire happening, Tony returned with two mugs full of hot chocolate. He handed one to Clint. Clint accepted it with a nod of thanks and wrapped his cold hands around it._

_Tony said, “I don’t keep the instant stuff in stock, though I really should, so that’s made from scratch. If it tastes funny, feel free to spit it out.”_

_Clint took a sip. It tasted perfectly okay. “It’s fine.”_

_“Oh, good. I don’t have to explain to the other Avengers that I poisoned you.”_

_They sat there for a while just taking small sips of their hot drinks. Clint felt like he was slowly warming up. Tony was watching Clint, but not like he was impatiently waiting for Clint to talk, more like he was letting Clint know he was here to listen if Clint wanted to talk. The difference was what made Clint open his mouth._

_“Coulson is alive.” Clint had to stop there and just let himself hear the words spoken out loud. “He’s not dead, but with the way I’m acting right now, you’d think he actually was. I should be happy—and I am, don’t get me wrong—but I can’t laugh and just pretend everything’s alright. I had to get out of there. It just felt like if I stayed and had to look at his face a second longer I was going to do something I’d regret. Like punch him. Or have a nervous breakdown.”_

_“Well, I punched him for you. So there’s that.”_

_Clint’s head snapped up to look meet Tony’s calm gaze. His own eyes were wide with shock._

_Tony said simply, “He hurt you.”_

_Clint asked, somewhat haltingly, “How is he alive? Do you know?”_

_“Coma apparently. Fury explained after you left.”_

_“Well, then it’s hardly Coulson’s fault I didn’t know.”_

_“But Fury could have told you. He should have. You could have at least sat by Coulson’s bedside. And if not right from the start, then they should have at least told you when Coulson woke up, not months later when he’s healed up enough to walk around under his own power. Hell, Coulson should have called you as soon as he was able. As for how the spear through the chest didn’t immediately stop his heart—I suspect some wonky science. If you ask me to, I’ll find out exactly how for you.”_

_Tony said that like it was the greatest promise and nothing all at once, like Clint could just say a word and Tony would happily offer the secrets of the world’s greatest spy organization in the palm of his hand. Clint felt arrested by the magnitude of this gift._

_“It’s okay. I don’t need to know. But thanks.”_

_Tony didn’t push his offer. That was practically another gift all on its own._

_After a moment, Tony asked, hesitation clear in his voice, “Hey, so how badly do you think Coulson’s going to kick my ass after he finds out that I’ve been taking care of you during your downs?”_

_Clint frowned, confused. “Why would Coulson beat you up for that?”_

_“Well, I mean, I don’t know if he’s one of those crazy jealous possessive types. He doesn’t look it, and I figure the whole thinking he was dead thing should give us a pass, but you never know.”_

_Clint tried to puzzle through Tony’s words. The conclusion he came to made little sense, but it was the best he had. “So you think Coulson’s my, what, boyfriend?” Clint grimaced at the thought of applying such a juvenile term to Coulson of all people._

_Tony was visibly taken aback. “He’s not? Oh, I thought…it’s just that the first time I saw you in a down and I asked if there was someone I could call for you, you said Coulson. You don’t talk about him a lot, but when you do, you make him sound like everything. And even though Natasha also lost a handler, you seemed hit way harder by it. I just figured…actually, I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”_

_“I guess looking at it from the outside, it’s not that far of a stretch to make. For a long time, Coulson was my everything. Not a lover. I wasn’t looking for that kind of thing. It’s just, before Coulson, I didn’t have anyone. My brother had left me. I had ditched the circus. And I figured, with the kind of skills I had, the only other option I had left was becoming a mercenary. Coulson saved me from that. He gave me pretty much everything I have now. He gave me the chance to make something of myself.”_

_“Wow. Sounds like an awesome guy.” Tony’s words were flippant, but there was real feeling beneath them._

_“Yeah, he was. Or, I guess I should say, he is. But awesome as he is, I was never his Sub. He was just helping me out so I wouldn’t drop. Besides, Coulson’s too married to his job to date anyone.”_

_And sure, Clint had kind of had a hero worship crush on Coulson after Clint had first joined SHIELD. Coulson had seemed larger than life and too good to be true. Hell, Coulson still sometimes seemed that way. But the crush had died away and in its place, a deep bond of friendship and partnership had flourished._

_“Oh thank God,” Tony said, relieved, “Coulson once threatened to taze me and watch Supernanny while I drooled. That man is terrifying.”_

_Clint teased, “And yet you punched him for me.”_

_Tony smiled sheepishly. “Well, it was you.”_

_Clint felt like he was sitting under a gentle sun. “Sap.”_

_They sat there facing each other with their knees touching and sharing a smile like melted sweet molasses._

_Tony slowly closed the distance between them until their faces were only inches apart and asked—his words filling the edges of this moment rather than breaking it—“Hey, Clint, you wanna date?”_

_Clint had a millions answers to that, but all he said was, “Yeah.”_

_Tony’s smile was brighter than magic. Clint’s only thought was that he wanted to taste that magic, so he surged forward and kissed Tony passionately. After only a brief moment of surprise, Tony kissed back just as fervently. Somehow, by the time they broke apart panting, Tony had ended up on his back with Clint on top of him._

_“Wow.” Tony said breathlessly. There was wonder in his voice._

_Clint smirked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”_

_When Clint started inching down the couch and pulling on the buttons of Tony’s pants, Tony’s hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back up. “Wait, wait, I thought you said no sex? Or is that just a rule for downs?”_

_Clint had to smile at Tony’s thoughtfulness even if Tony was kind of cockblocking both of them right now. “Sex is okay. I’m not asexual. I just wasn’t feeling up to sex right after the Battle of Manhattan, what with Loki and Coulson and everything. And I didn’t know you that well that first time. If you wanted to have sex the next time I go under, I’d be okay with it. Apparently we’re dating now, right?”_

_“Just because we’re dating now and you share your downs with me doesn’t mean you have to have sex with me.” Tony said seriously._

_Clint rolled his eyes. “I want to, okay?”_

_Tony chuckled. “Alright, alright, if you want to, I’m certainly not going to stop you. I just had to check. Anyway, now that I’ve filled my nice guy quota for the next year, you want to take this to a bed? I’m not sure my back can handle couch sex.”_

_Clint got up off of Tony and started heading towards the bedroom. He called over his shoulder, “You’re not fooling anyone with your asshole act. You’re actually a marshmallow.”_

_“I’ll show you marshmallow!” Tony mock threatened as he jumped off the couch and chased Clint into the bedroom._

_Clint laughed. And he kept laughing well into the night. He’d never had someone he could laugh with during sex. Clint thought he could get used to it._

 

 

 

 

Clint woke up feeling like something had irreparably changed, even though everything seemed to be as it usually was. He was lying on the bed he shared with Tony on the penthouse floor that was theirs. Tony was lying beside him, under the rumpled covers with equally rumpled hair. So what was different?

And then vague, hazy memories started filtering in. He thought the last thing he remembered was Bucky gently tucking Tony and him into bed after Tony had cried himself out. Shit. Tony had gone under for Bucky. Knowing that should having been world-shattering. And yet. It wasn’t.

For some reason, Clint didn’t feel like running for the hills like he had the first time he had gotten an inkling of the potential between Tony and Bucky. And Clint was starting to realize maybe the difference was Bucky himself.

Bucky had been so incredibly gentle with Tony. Clint had been able to see that Bucky was an amazing Dom. But it hadn’t felt like Bucky had been trying to steal Tony away from Clint. Bucky had included Clint without a second thought, balancing between them so seamlessly like it was effortless.

Tony started to stir. He curled into Clint’s side like a heat-seeking missile. He grumbled sleepily with an adorable pout on his lips and a little frown between his brows. Clint often liked to tell Tony how cute he was when he did that just to see him grumble some more.

Clint stroked his fingers through Tony’s hair fondly, petting Tony like he was overgrown cat while he stretched the last few inches into full wakefulness. Tony blinked his eyes open, and when he saw Clint, he smiled, the last vestiges of sleep keeping him sweet.

Clint saw the moment the memories of yesterday hit Tony in the way Tony stiffened and blanched. Gone was the smile and in its place Clint saw shame and guilt. Well, that wouldn’t do. Clint climbed over Tony and held him down so he wouldn’t do something silly like run off to the workshop and put it on lockdown for the rest of eternity.

“Hey,” Clint called softly while jostling Tony gently to snap him out of his downward spiral of panic and self-loathing, “hey, look at me.”

Tony reluctantly met Clint’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I know it doesn’t mean much, but for what it’s worth, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Clint kissed Tony on the nose. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Tony gave him an incredulous look.

“No, seriously. Bucky told me you went down while the two of you were bonding over your cars. It’s not like you went under and then went looking for him or actually asked him to put you under.”

Tony looked like a man who wanted to be forgiven but at the same time didn’t because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Clint knew how that felt.

Tony said mulishly, “It still means I was unfaithful. I shouldn’t _be able_ to go under for someone else, not while I’m with you. If a Sub can be affected by a Dom not their own to the point of unintentionally going under, it means their heart isn’t really in their relationship—it means they’re not completely their Dom’s. That’s enough for a Dom to take back their collar and break the bond.”

“Yeah, okay, but you’re not my Sub. Besides, even in the situation you brought up, it’s not like the Dom always breaks the bond—they can, but they don’t have to. There might be extenuating circumstances. There certainly are in your case.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a Switch thing,” Tony said with a stubborn glint in his eyes. Man, he was really digging his heels in.

If Clint didn’t know better, he’d almost say Tony actually wanted Clint to break up with him. But Clint did know better. He knew that Tony was an insecure bastard and he couldn’t really blame the man for it.

Clint wanted to groan in frustration, but he was supposed to be the reasonable one in this conversation. Fuck it, Clint decided, he deserved a moment of weakness. He groaned aloud and dropped his head heavily onto Tony’s collar bone. Tony grunted, more in surprise than pain.

Clint made sure his lips weren’t mashed into Tony’s skin so that his words could be heard clearly and spoke, “No, Tony, it’s not about your presentation. Okay, maybe it is, a little bit. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Let’s look at the facts. Fact one: you’re a Switch. Fact two: you’re my Dom. Fact three: you can go under for Bucky. Fact four: I’m not angry about it. Fact five: Bucky was pretty good with you yesterday. And me, too. So, what does that leave us with?”

Clint wondered if Tony was going to answer after waiting for a pretty long time in silence. At last, just when Clint was going to lift his head to check on Tony, Tony said, “Um, I don’t know?”

“I was thinking that we could make some kind of arrangement with Bucky, if he’s okay with it.”

The quality of the silence this time was definitely shocked. Clint looked up, resting his chin on Tony’s sternum, and yep. Tony’s face was full of stunned disbelief.

Tony finally recovered and said warily, “I think you’re going to have to clarify what you mean by arrangement.”

Clint hoped it wasn’t totally obvious how much he was still feeling out exactly what he meant himself and said, “Kinda like the one we had when I first started sharing my downs with you? Maybe if you go under for him regularly, it won’t happen accidentally?”

“What?” Tony asked flatly. Clint could tell the flatness was merely a mask for Tony’s confusion—and a wealth of other tangled emotions

“What?” Clint asked defensively, “Do you have a better idea? I figure you’ll probably keep going into accidental downs around Bucky.” Tony winced. “Hey now, I’m not blaming you. It is what it is. I think controlling when you go under is much better than just waiting for the next one to pop up unexpectedly. The only other way that I can think of to stop the accidental downs is to never see Bucky again, which, just no. Besides, doing that might cause you to drop.”

“If you ask me to, I’ll never see him again.” Tony promised. And Clint believed him, but Clint could also see how much that promise hurt him. “I can get JARVIS to set up alerts whenever we’re about to run into each other. Or, I could set him up with a nice apartment in Brooklyn. Or, uh, we could move out? If you want to.” Tony offered each suggestion with more desperation than the last.

Clint wanted to sigh, but he held himself back this time. There went Tony again, offering everything, anything that he thought Clint wanted, with no thought for himself. Sometimes, Clint was afraid he might one day carelessly ask for too much and Tony would tear himself to nothing to give it to Clint. That kind of responsibility was a heavy weight on Clint’s shoulders. But Clint would gladly take that weight because it meant Tony trusted and loved him. Whoever thought Tony was selfish was fucking blind.

“No, Tony, we’re not going to kick Bucky out of the only home he’s known in decades. And no, we’re not going to run away from him like he’s the plague. I like it here and I like us here, okay?”

Tony breathed out in relief and nodded. But he wasn’t completely relaxed. He asked miserably, “But what are we gonna do?” Clint opened his mouth to answer, but Tony cut him off. “Yes, yes, I know, we can try your _arrangement_. But that’s not a real solution!”

“Why not?” Clint asked, mostly serious, but a little bit just to be contrary because he could be a little shit when he wanted to be.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony asked, his face a sketch of incredulity. “How about because I refuse to cheat on you!”

“You wouldn’t be cheating on me. Cheating implies you going behind my back. I’d know about it and be okay with it.”

“Of course you’d be okay with it!” Tony hauled himself up into a sitting position, probably the better to get more worked up—and since Clint was lying on top of Tony, Clint was hauled up along with him. “That’s because you’re a self-sacrificing idiot with low self-esteem!”

Clint arched an eyebrow, his pointed silence scathingly judgmental. _Who are you calling a self-sacrificing idiot with low self-esteem here?_

Tony seemed to realize what he had said and immediately deflated. Clint could practically smell the sheepishness rolling off him.

Tony conceded, “Okay, fine,” and then said, the last bit of defiance even in the face of defeat, “but Bucky’s never going to go for it.”

Clint was going to make Tony eat his words. Keeping his eyes on Tony’s, Clint called out to the air, “JARVIS, can you ask Bucky to meet us in the living room?”

“Of course, Master Barton.” After a pause, during which Clint ignored Tony’s panicked gibbering and just sat more firmly on him, JARVIS spoke again, “Mister Barnes has agreed to your request. He shall be arriving in three minutes.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Clint wondered what JARVIS thought about the puny humans who lived within his electronic embrace and all their relationship angst.

Clint turned his attention back to Tony. He got off the bed and held out his hand. “Come on, Bucky’s going to be here soon.”

Tony looked for a moment like he was going to pull his brat act and refuse to get out of bed. But then he must have realized that Clint was strong enough to wrestle Tony out of bed, carry him to the living room, and then sit on him until Bucky showed up. Tony made the wise decision to take the high road and maintain as much dignity as possible.

They only had enough time to hastily straighten their bedhead before Bucky strode into their living room. Even though his steps were sure, his face was outlined in uncertainty. Clint gestured for Bucky to sit in the armchair across from them, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Bucky sat down.

All three of them sat there alternately staring at each other and avoiding each other’s gaze.

After a few seconds more, Clint decided enough was enough. Looked like he was going to have to be the adult here. He wondered how he had been drafted for that role. Then, he glanced at Tony and Bucky blushing at each other and had his answer. There had been a time in his life where any situation in which he was the least emotionally stunted one was sure to be a fucked up one. But then, well, he had met Tony, and they’d muddled through their problems alright up until now. All they could do was keep on winging it and hoped their combined bad luck cancelled each other out.

“Bucky, I called you here because we’ve got to talk about yesterday.”

Bucky’s eyes met Clint’s defiantly. “Are you asking me to apologize?”

“No.” Some of the tension in Bucky’s frame immediately loosened. “I didn’t call you here to point fingers. Yesterday was nobody’s fault.” Here, Clint gave Tony a pointed look. Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. “Now, we’re going to pretend to be adults and figure out what we’re going to do from here on out.”

“Okay. Any suggestions?” Bucky asked.

“You could take Tony down regularly,” Clint offered, using all his willpower to make it sound like no big deal. The last thing he needed to do was sound uncertain about his own suggestion.

Instead of immediately jumping into outraged questions or panicked denials like Clint half-expected him to, Bucky just nodded calmly and said, “I’m okay with that.” He turned to Tony. “Are you okay with that?”

Tony finally looked up and met Bucky’s eyes. They stared into each other’s eyes for a while, each searching for an answer in the other. They finally pulled away, seemingly satisfied. Tony nodded, much surer now than he had been in the bedroom. “Yes.”

Clint almost breathed out a sigh of relief. Huh. Look at that. They could be adults when they tried. “Okay. Good. That went much better than I thought it would. Before we move onto celebratory group cuddles, I’ve got two, um, well, I guess you could call them conditions.”

At the word ‘conditions’, Bucky and Tony both immediately sat up straighter and focused intently on Clint. Yikes. Clint almost froze under the dual brown and blue lasers of their twin gazes. But no, he had to say this next part. Communication, right. Clint sometimes wanted to punch Coulson for making him a functional human being.

Somewhere between the bedroom and here, a thought had coalesced in Clint’s brain. He had originally planned to let Tony go off alone with Bucky whenever Tony needed to be taken down, but then… “I want to be there. When Tony shares his downs with you, I want to be there.”

Bucky and Tony must have thought the request was a reasonable one, for they both relaxed. In fact, they both actually looked relieved. Clint figured Tony was probably happy to have someone familiar with him, but what was Bucky relieved about?

Bucky said, “I’m more than fine with it. You and Tony have a great bond and I don’t want to mess with it. What’s the other condition?”

“Well, this is more for Tony than you.” Clint turned more fully to Tony and picked up the closer hand to hold between his own. Tony met Clint’s eyes, a little wary but mostly just attentive. “Look, I know you were panicking yesterday. I’ve said and done things I didn’t mean when I was dropping, so I know. But please never ask me for the pills to make you a better Dom again. You’re great as you are. And also, please, please never ask me to punish you ever again.”

Tony looked briefly ashamed at Clint’s words, before he really heard what Clint was asking. Despite his tendency to immediately fall into self-recriminations, Tony pulled himself out before the spiral could even start and focused on Clint, on the fear and desperation underneath the calm in Clint’s plea. Ah, there was the Dom that Clint had pledged himself to, the man he had slowly fallen in love with. There was that inner strength despite, or maybe because of, his insecurities.

Tony tugged Clint into his side and rested his head on top of Clint’s head before saying with great solemnity, “I’m sorry. I promise. Never again.”

Their moment was broken when Bucky asked confusedly, “Pills?”

They explained and Bucky listened with growing horror.

After they finished, he growled, “Never again.”

Tony whined like a little kid, probably to lighten the mood, “Hey, I already promised Clint, what more do you want from me?”

It had the desired effect. Bucky cracked a reluctant smile and rolled his eyes.

Bucky stood up from his arm chair and moved over to join them on the couch. He held open his arms and asked with an impish grin, “So, celebratory group cuddles now?”

Before Tony could formulate a response, Clint shoved him into Bucky’s open arms and then squished himself on top of Tony. Seriously, that man needed to shut up and just take his cuddles like a man before he talked them into another crisis.

 

 

 

 

_Clint shut the faucet off when he estimated that the water was at the right height to mostly submerge Tony without overflowing over the bathtub rim when Tony got in. Though to call it a bathtub was really not doing the size justice. It looked like a mini pool. In fact, Clint thought the designers had orgies in mind when they’d installed it._

_Clint trailed his fingers through the water to check the temperature for the umpteenth time. When he found it satisfactory, he poured a small smidge of lavender oil into the water. He swished his fingers through the water to spread the oil. The aroma of lavender immediately wafted into the air._

_Clint was nervous. Sure, he’d subbed for Tony before. But this was the first time after their talk about dating and Tony going off the pills. Already, Tony smelled different as the artificial hormones cleared their way out of his system. He smelled softer and sweeter. There was a complexity of notes in his scent, like wine that had finally been allowed to breathe. He wanted this time to be perfect to show Tony that nothing had changed between them, or if they had, only for the better._

_After one last check to make sure all the soaps and towels were set up, he walked out of the bathroom and into the living room to find Tony. Tony was sitting on the couch and working on some schematics on a tablet. Clint stood off to one side, not wanting to pull Tony from his work, and waited for Tony to notice him._

_Tony’s nose twitched and Tony looked up. When he saw Clint waiting for him, he smiled and said, “Ready?”_

_Clint nodded._

_Tony set his tablet to one side and stood up. He walked around the couch to Clint, wrapped an arm around Clint’s waist and started to lead Clint back to the bathroom. “Come on then, wow me.”_

_Clint gladly allowed himself to be led even though he could have easily walked on his own. He liked that he could feel the warmth of Tony’s body against his own even through their layers of clothing._

_Once in the bathroom, Tony let go of Clint to face him. With his eyes on Clint, he ordered in that gentle, steady way of his, “Undress me.”_

_Tony was still dressed in the suit he had put on earlier today for a board meeting Pepper had dragged him to. Undressing him was going to be like unwrapping a present. Clint reached out and slowly undid the large buttons of the suit jacket. Then, he went around behind Tony and slid his hands up Tony’s collarbones, along his shoulders, and down his arms, taking the suit jacket with him. Clint took the suit jacket and carefully hung it up on the hanger he had made sure to place on the back of the bathroom door._

_Clint turned back to see Tony watching his every move, like Clint was doing something much more fascinating than simply undressing Tony. Wordlessly, Clint came back to Tony to remove his tie. Clint used only the softest of touches so as not to stress the fabric. Once the tie was off, Clint rolled it up and set on the bathroom counter._

_Something was slowly changing in the air between them with each article of clothing Clint removed. He could feel himself slowly sinking into that deep, safe silence that was his down. The rhythm of undoing the pearly buttons of Tony’s collared shirt lulled Clint much the way shooting arrow after arrow into a target did._

_Clint didn’t rush, touching each button like a lover. When the last button was undone, Clint slowly pushed the shirt off Tony’s shoulders and allowed it to slide the rest of the way down Tony’s arms before catching it deftly. He folded the shirt with military precision so the creases would be crisp and deliberate if it was shaken out and worn again. Clint knew Tony would probably be tossing everything in the laundry but certain ceremonies were meant to be observed regardless of their use. Clint placed the folded shirt by the rolled up tie._

_When Clint returned once again to Tony’s side, he gently pushed up on Tony’s arms. Tony got the message and held up his arms so that Clint could pull off his undershirt. Clint folded that, too, and added it with the rest. Tony stood there, steady, unabashedly allowing Clint to look his fill of the arc reactor. It shone from Tony’s chest like the heart of a brilliant star. The vivid scars that branched out from it like a star’s rays were beautiful to Clint because Clint knew they were marks of Tony’s strength and will to survive._

_Clint bent to place a kiss at the center of the arc reactor as he moved gracefully to kneel at Tony’s feet. He undid the shoelaces of each leather shoe before he slowly eased it off Tony’s foot. He set the shoes underneath the counter. He pulled off the plain black socks with such slow attention one might have thought they were a woman’s silk stockings. He rolled the socks together and set them with the shoes._

_Clint looked at Tony’s feet, surprisingly vulnerable and dainty beneath the edge of Tony’s slacks. He leaned in to place a kiss on the back of each foot, all the while keeping his eyes up on Tony’s. Clint shuddered at the liquid heat he saw in those dark, dark eyes._

_Still kneeling, Clint unbuttoned Tony’s trousers and guided Tony into stepping out of each pant leg one at a time, giving Tony a steady arm to support himself against. He folded them, too, and added them to the growing collection. All that remained was Tony’s red boxer briefs. A distant part of Clint wanted to roll his eyes at the color, but he was down too deep to bother now. Clint noticed goose bumps on Tony’s skin, so he didn’t bother dragging out the process any longer. Within moments, he was helping Tony into the tub._

_Tony settled himself against one edge so that only his head and neck remained above the water. He groaned in pleasure at the soothing heat of the bath. He closed his eyes for so long that Clint almost thought he had fallen asleep until he said, “Wash my hair please.”_

_Clint didn’t think he’d ever had a Dom tell him ‘please’ before. The sweetness of that word curled through him._

_Clint grabbed a shampoo with the soft rolling scent of fresh cut grass. He squeezed a dollop of it into his hand and started working it into Tony’s dark curls. He was very careful not to massage Tony’s scalp._

_Tony had explained that a massage was the one surefire way to put him under. In fact, it had proven so effective that Stane had kept a Dom masseuse on retainer so that he could have had Tony plaint whenever he had wanted Tony that way. Now that Tony was off the pills, Tony was worried that he might go under even while he was with a Sub. Clint had liked the intimacy of giving Tony a massage, but the last thing they needed was two Subs down with no Dom to mediate._

_Once every last hair was thoroughly covered in suds, Clint scooped up handfuls of water and, while shielding Tony’s eyes, poured the water over Tony’s hair, allowing the gentle pressure of the falling water to wash away the soap._

_When the last handful of water sluiced down Tony’s face totally clear, Tony took ahold of Clint’s wrist and brought Clint’s hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. Tony’s voice was a low, warm rumble when he said, “Very good. Thank you.”_

_The praise swept through Clint like a cleansing breeze. He felt made new by it._

_Clint grabbed a washcloth, poured a bit of chamomile soap onto it, and started a gentle lather. Clint washed Tony with reverence, as if every movement were part of some sacred ritual. He started at the top and worked with tender, sure strokes down to the bottom. He moved the cloth along the arch of Tony’s eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the length of his cheekbones, the curve of his ears, and finally down to the roughness of his facial hair. He traced Tony’s every feature like a blind man feeling art._

_The entire time Clint tended to Tony, Clint was ensnared by Tony’s unwavering gaze. Clint washed Tony’s body entirely by feel for his eyes never left Tony’s. He was physically incapable of looking away. The repetitive motion of washing Tony left Clint in a sweet daze. It felt like Clint was moving through honey and floating on a silver-edged cloud all at once. The way Tony looked at him…Clint had no words. If a blaze could be gentle, if lightning could be painless—that was the feeling._

_When Clint finally finished with Tony’s toes, and thus finished the ritual, Tony took the washcloth from Clint and tossed it carelessly aside. It landed with a wet splat somewhere but Clint only noted it distantly._

_“Join me?” God, the way Tony’s voice reached into dark, secret places within Clint that Clint didn’t even know existed—how did Tony do that?_

_Clint nodded eagerly and hastily disrobed, without even a fraction of the care he had shown Tony, and allowed Tony to help him into the tub. Once in the warm water, Clint swam close to Tony, hooked his arms around Tony’s neck, and drew them together so closely that they were practically melding into each other._

_“Can you close your eyes for me?”_

_Tony asked so easily, as if he wasn’t asking Clint to willingly give up his greatest sense, the gift Clint had built his entire life around. But no, Tony knew the depth of what he was asking. He asked because he believed Clint was strong enough to surrender. And knowing that made trusting Tony easy. So Clint closed his eyes._

_When Tony next spoke, he was so close a puff of warm breath fluttered Clint’s eyelashes with each word, “Can you touch me exactly the way I touch you?”_

_Clint nodded. Keeping his eyes closed robbed him of the ability to see what was coming next. He could only feel and let himself be taken along for the ride. So when Tony kissed Clint, Clint was at once surprised and ready. Tony kissed him briefly but passionately, as if he was concentrating all of his desire into a single moment until it was so heady Clint felt drunk off of it. When Tony pulled away, Clint was thoroughly enthralled and breathless and feeling bereft at having so great a gift taken away so suddenly._

_They stood in the water with only the sound of Clint’s heavy breaths breaking the silence. Clint felt like Tony was waiting for something, but what? Oh, right._

_Clint kissed back, trying to copy the exact placement of lips, teeth, and tongue from a memory fogged with dizzying pleasure. And if the technique wasn’t an exact match, then at least the feelings behind it were. Tony murmured praise when Clint finally pulled back. Clint almost thought he was going to float away from sheer happiness, but then Tony anchored him back._

_Tony placed four precise and dainty kisses along one wing of Clint’s collarbones, ending at the hollow of Clint’s throat. When he finished, he pulled back again, patiently waiting._

_Clint leaned forward and allowed himself to sink that last bit fully under, to fall headlong into bliss, knowing that Tony would catch him._

 

 

 

 

The day after Clint had proposed his arrangement and Bucky and Tony had agreed to it, Bucky had come over to hash out the details. Bucky had asked a million questions, wanting to know their likes and dislikes, what they wanted from their downs and what they needed from him. Bucky had made it clear he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. He hadn’t wanted to ruin their romantic relationship or their relationship as Dom and Sub. One the first things he had clarified was whether he was allowed to touch them. After some discussion, Clint and Tony had decided that platonic touching was okay but that if any sex was going to be happening, it would only be between Clint and Tony, though Bucky was allowed to watch.

Clint really shouldn’t have been surprised by the care behind all the detailed questions, not after having gone through something similar with Tony, but somehow, he still had been. He had lived through too much of his life with the knowledge that the Doms around him wouldn’t have given a first thought to his desires or boundaries, to him as a human being, if he’d shared a down with them. He was starting to realize that he’d just run into all the shitty Doms and that what Tony and Bucky had done, with all the questions and checking in, was actually normal, or at least supposed to be.

Anyways, Clint had been glad to actually have some answers this time. He’d come a long way from that first time Tony had asked and Clint hadn’t had any answers to give.

Clint had expected that Tony would have had an easier time of answering the questions when it had been his turn, what with having subbed for Doms before—albeit bad Doms, but still. However, Tony had hemmed and hawed, so much so that Clint had wondered what could possibly be so bad to make even Tony Fucking Stark embarrassed.

Finally, Tony had muttered, “I like to be the center of attention, okay? I like to be pampered like the spoiled little rich boy that I am. Not that anyone is surprised.”

Bucky had flinched from the poison in Tony’s voice. Clint would have, too, but he had grown used to Tony’s self-loathing. And wasn’t that just sad? He hated it, sure, and he wished Tony could see himself the way Clint saw him, the way his true friends saw him, but Clint also knew that it was a long work in progress. Even so, Clint had still felt like punching whoever in Tony’s past had made Tony feel like his wants were stupid.

Later that night, when Clint and Tony had ensconced themselves in the safety of blankets and darkness, Tony had whispered the small, secret things in his heart and the back of his throat that would never see the light of day.

Tony had explained that, unlike Clint, Tony hated being made to feel like he was ‘useful’. He knew he was. He’d been inventing shit since before he could walk. He’d gotten his first patent while other people had still been learning to count. He had gotten more doctorates than he knew what to do with. Even now, most of his time was spent building for SI, for SHIELD, for the Avengers. Sometimes, Tony had told Clint, it seemed like being useful was the only thing people saw in him. Clint’s heart had broken for Tony.

And Clint had understood that when Tony had said ‘center of attention’, he had meant he wanted to be seen, and when Tony had said ‘pampered’, Tony had meant he wanted to be cherished and loved. Tony wanted to be loved, not in spite of, not because of, but just loved. He wanted to be Tony, not Tony Fucking Stark, not Iron Man, not genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And so Clint had rolled around and proceeded to show Tony, just Tony, how much Clint loved him.

And now, it was a week later and Clint and Tony were hanging around their penthouse living room, waiting for appointed hour to show up on Bucky’s floor. Bucky had insisted on using his rooms just in case it didn’t go well, so that their own floor would still feel like a safe space. Honestly, Clint felt like having a down in an unfamiliar place wasn’t the greatest idea, but Tony had agreed with Bucky, so Clint had decided to just go along with it.

Clint was nervous as fuck. Like velociraptors-are-in-my-stomach nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this nervous. He almost wanted to call the whole thing off, but Tony needed this and Clint wanted him to have it. He needed to stay with Tony to support him, not to mention to see how Bucky meshed with them.

Even though his cool, rational side knew all the reasons why they had to do this and why Clint should be happy they were doing this, the rest of him was all twisted up inside. Tony was the only Dom Clint had willingly subbed for. He wasn’t sure how subbing for another Dom was going to work. Christ. He wasn’t ready.

But they’d already talked the matter to death. It was now or never. And it wasn’t just for Tony. Clint thought he would be disappointed if he never got to find out what kind of Dom Bucky was.

Tony walked over from the bar, carrying a glass of scotch. He sat down beside Clint on the couch and turned Clint to face him. Something of what Clint was feeling must have shown on his face—he was the worst at hiding from Tony—because Tony immediately frowned in concern.

Tony asked, “Are you okay? You know we don’t have to do this, right? I can tell Bucky we need to reschedule or just call the whole thing off entirely.”

And somehow, this reassurance was exactly what Clint needed. He knew nobody was going to force him to do anything, but Tony’s words made him feel in visceral way what he already knew.

Clint said, “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” At Tony’s dubious look, he said more firmly, “Really, I’m just nervous. This is new. Bucky is new.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Clint asked, “Are _you_ okay?”

“What? Of course I’m okay. I’m always okay.” Tony was totally blasé, but Clint wasn’t fooled. Clint looked pointedly at Tony’s drink, which was trembling very faintly. Tony looked down and smiled sheepishly. “Busted, eh? Okay, so I’m not as unaffected about this as I’m trying to seem. What, I’m not allowed to be nervous, too?”

Clint leaned into give Tony a quick peck on the lips. “No, you are. As long as it’s not bad nerves?” Clint asked, eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s.

Tony stole another kiss before answering, “No, I’m pretty excited, actually. You?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Clint didn’t add _as long as you’re there, I’ll always be good_. Clint thought Tony heard it anyway by the way Tony’s eyes softened. At least Tony was kind enough not to call Clint on it.

Tony set his untouched drink down and took Clint’s hand. “Come on, let’s just go. The wait is killing me. I’m pretty sure Bucky finished setting up ages ago. He probably won’t mind if we show up a bit early.”

“Okay.” Clint trusted Tony’s judgment.

They held hands the entire way down. Clint drew comfort from the shared touch and he thought Tony was doing the same.

When the elevator opened on Bucky’s floor, Bucky was nowhere in sight. Clint and Tony looked at each other before looking at the closed bedroom door. With no little trepidation, they walked up to the door. Tony raised his hand to knock on the door, but the door swung open before he could make contact with it.

Bucky stood on the other side, dressed in a Henley and jeans, with his long hair pulled back. Even when Clint had been worrying about Bucky taking Tony away from him, he had never failed to notice Bucky’s scorching looks. Bucky made casual look so good. By the way Tony looked like he was seconds away from drooling, Tony agreed.

Bucky gave them a long, evaluating look before gesturing for them to come in and turning around to head deeper into his own bedroom. Clint and Tony shared another look before following Bucky’s wordless directive. Once inside, Clint saw that the bed had been made with fresh sheets. On the far side of the room, there was a massage table set up. After Clint and Tony had explained Tony’s thing for massages, Bucky had eagerly agreed to get everything together so Clint could give Tony a massage.

Clint and Tony stood somewhat awkwardly by the door. Bucky had sat himself down in a dark leather armchair in one corner of the bedroom.

Bucky’s clear blue gaze pinned first Tony, then Clint, before he said, “Undress him.”

Tony shuddered at the unmistakable tone of command in Bucky’s words, even though the order wasn’t for him. Clint just barely held himself back from the same reaction. Clint immediately started to undress Tony. Clint didn’t rush, but neither did he show any particular reverence. It wasn’t just Tony and Clint here, with Clint playing the role of worshipper. Right now, Clint was Bucky’s tool—Clint’s body a mere conduit between Bucky’s commands and Tony’s desires.

As Clint undressed Tony, he couldn’t help but compare Bucky’s particular brand of dominance with Tony’s. Tony gave orders like they were really requests. He asked and waited for Clint’s answer. When Clint followed, Tony never acted like he had expected Clint to, but rather like Clint honored Tony each and every time with his obedience. Bucky handed out orders like he was still in the military, like he expected, no, _knew_ , he would be obeyed.

“Good. Put him on the table.”

Clint led Tony to the table. Already, Tony’s eyes were starting to take on that particular glaze of a Sub in a down. Clint laid down a few fresh towels on top of the massage table. Then, Clint helped Tony lay down on his front.

Clint picked up a bottle of oil and read the label. Lavender. Perfect. He opened the bottle and poured some oil out onto his hands. He rubbed his hands to heat up the oil and just as he was about to lay his hands on Tony, he felt a presence behind him. He almost turned around, startled, but then Bucky stepped even closer so that Bucky’s front was a line of heat against his back. Even though Bucky wasn’t holding him in any way, Clint still felt like he was being cradled in a warm embrace.

Bucky inclined his head so that his mouth was right next to Clint’s ear and said lowly, “Relax and follow me.”

And this time Clint couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine.

Bucky’s hands, calloused the way Clint’s were, came up and laid themselves over Clint’s. Bucky gently guided Clint’s hands to Tony’s shoulders. And it was in this manner that Clint gave Tony a massage, with Bucky leading Clint’s every move. Bucky didn’t have to be speak to command, his every gentle nudge more solid than words carved in stone.

By the time they finished working Tony over, Tony was more puddle than man. Clint had never seen Tony so pliant, so soft and sweet—like every rigid layer of control, every mask, had been stripped away until all the remained was the tender, vulnerable center—and it was a wonder to see.

Bucky stepped back from Clint, then, and directed, “Good. Carry him to the bed and then lay him down on it.”

Clint scooped Tony up, not minding the traces of oil getting on his clothes, and gently lowered Tony onto the bed. Tony’s head lolled about like Tony was a puppet whose strings had been cut, and when Tony saw Clint, he smiled sweetly at Clint. Clint was helpless in the face of that smile and had no choice but to return it.

Bucky’s voice was like steel wrapped in silk. “If you reach under the corners of the mattress, you’ll find a cuff attached at each corner. Go on, get them out.” Clint followed obediently and fished out the cuffs so that they lay on the sheets, darkly gleaming. “Good. Now, strap Tony down.”

Clint stretched Tony out so that Tony was spread-eagled with his arms and legs splayed out. Then, Clint proceeded to wrap buttery smooth leather around each limb, tight enough so that Tony could really feel it but not too tight that he’d be hurt. Clint hated being tied up—it made him feel trapped and helpless—but he could almost see the appeal when Tony relaxed into the bonds with a little soundless sigh and half-closed his eyes in bliss.

Bucky came over so that he was in Tony’s sightline. Tony’s eyes snapped to Bucky’s without having to be asked. The way Tony looked at Bucky…like a rabbit frozen before a wolf, like a snake enraptured by his charmer. Tony seemed to be freezing and drowning all at once, what with the way he trembled and gasped harder the longer he was caught in Bucky’s gaze. Clint would have been worried if desire hadn’t been obvious in every line of Tony’s body.

Bucky finally asked, his soft voice at odds with his predatory manner, “How are you doing, котёнок?”

Clint knew enough Russian from Tasha to know that Tony would protest if he knew what Bucky had called him. Or, maybe not. Tony looked like Bucky could call him anything and he’d be well pleased.

“Good. God, I’m _so_ good right now.” Tony’s words slid out from the corners of his mouth like sticky sweet honey.

Bucky chuckled, amused. “Yes, you are.” Bucky then turned to Clint. “And you, Clint?”

Clint nodded.

Bucky turned back to Tony with a slow smile that was wicked and hungry. When he spoke, his voice was smoother than most expensive whiskey, richer than the darkest chocolate, “I’m going to teach you the meaning of desire. I’m going to tear you apart so gently it won’t hurt, but you’ll cry for me anyway because it’ll be too much, because the sweetness will be its own kind of pain. I’ll show you tenderness until you choke on it.”

Tony was shaking so hard that the bed frame was almost shaking with him. His breathing was uneven and erratic. He looked like Bucky’s words pricked like needles, teased like feathers—like Bucky’s words had been made solid by Bucky’s intent and were bearing down on him.

And still, Bucky continued relentlessly, words pacing the room like a jungle cat, “I’ll break you open and take a look at all the soft things you keep hidden deep down. I’ll see everything that you are, in a way no one else has. I won’t stop until not a single part of you, inside or out, remains untouched. And still, you’ll beg me for more. If you’re very good, I’ll give you everything you want, even the things you don’t know you want. And I’ll do all this without laying a single finger on you. I don’t need to. That’s what I have Clint for.”

And here, Bucky held out his metal hand in Clint’s direction. Instinctively, Clint knew what Bucky wanted. Clint leaned forward so that Bucky could grab the back of his neck. Clint felt shaky and anchored all at once at the feel of Bucky’s grip, almost like a second collar over the one Clint already wore for Tony.

Bucky drew Clint closer to Tony so that Clint could act as Bucky’s hands. Clint glanced up at Bucky, more than ready to receive his first order. Bucky looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary—no, like the cat that had eaten the whole fucking aviary.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will start including some more team interactions. Tony will be coming out to the team about being a Switch, and Steve and Bruce will be revealing some of their own secrets. So keep an eye out for that :)
> 
> All this so far has been unbeta-ed, so if you catch a typo or grammar mistake, please let me know. Also, I don't speak Russian, so if what Bucky called Tony doesn't actually mean 'kitten', please let me know. If anyone wants to beta the last two chapters for me, I'd be very grateful.
> 
> Also, question: I have nothing against smut and I don't really mind writing it, but I wanted to keep the rating down and I felt like even though I cut the scenes off before it got to the sex, I still managed to convey what I wanted to. Namely the intimacy and some different styles of domming (Tony and Bucky) and subbing (Clint and Tony). Do you think the story is incomplete without the sex scenes?


	4. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not as confident about this chapter as the previous ones. I agonized a long time over it, before I finally decided I just had to publish it and fix it if need be based on reviews. This chapter is kind of more slice of life style and brings in the other characters a little more. Also, there's more one-on-one Clint and Bucky interaction. Let me know what you think!

_Tony was even more manic than usual during their weekly team dinner. Everyone noticed, but Clint was the only one who knew why._

_Things had been going swimmingly well between Clint and Tony. Sure, they’d been close even before they’d started officially dating. But it was like putting a name on what they were had given Tony the signal to pull out all the stops. Now, whenever they were together, it seemed like Tony physically couldn’t keep his hands away. And not just for sex, either. They spent a surprising amount of time just sharing a comfortable sort of casual intimacy._

_For their first date, Tony had managed to convince Clint to go somewhere really extravagant—a total Tony Fucking Stark date—but Clint had practically broken out in hives at how much everything reeked of money, even the fucking napkins and water. Tony had been practically beside himself when he’d found out how much Clint had hated it. Clint had assured him that it was the venue he hated, not the fact that he had gone on a date with Tony. If Tony asked, Clint would always say yes._

_After that, they’d had some pretty successful dates at dive bars, arcades, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. And Tony never seemed to mind slumming it—in fact, he loved wherever Clint took him. Clint realized that even though Tony enjoyed spending money and had expensive tastes, he could enjoy himself without all the fancy frills. Tony just had a habit of throwing money at things to show he cared because that was the way he’d been raised._

_Additionally, by now, the last of the Rodoxin-D had completely cleared from Tony’s system. And lo and behold, his relationship with Steve had slowly started to improve. Sure, they still sniped at each other, that was probably never going to change considering how different they were, but now it was mostly friendly. At least, they almost never looked like they wanted to scratch each other’s faces off._

_Everything seemed like it had settled into an even keel. Coulson and Clint had started talking again—well, the first time Clint had screamed and cried at him, embarrassingly enough, and Coulson had offered endless apologies—and now they were back to being best friends and a ruthlessly efficient handler-agent duo._

_And Clint and Tony had kept up their open communication thing, too. It was actually kind funny how well they communicated for two people so good at talking without saying anything. Somehow, Clint felt like he didn’t mind if Tony saw the ugly, broken parts of himself because he knew Tony had those parts, too. They got each other in a way other people couldn’t._

_So, because everything was going so well, Tony had decided that it was time to share his secret with the other important people in his life, namely Rhodes, Pepper, and the Avengers. Clint had wholeheartedly offered his support. Even though he didn’t think Tony_ had _to come out, so to speak, he thought Tony might be happier not to have to hide a part of himself from the people he shared his life with. Clint didn’t think anybody would react badly, but if they did, Clint was sure he could make them see reason. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that._

_After his big decision, Tony had immediately sent a message off to Rhodes and Pepper, telling them he had something important to tell them face-to-face. Pepper and Rhodes had cleared their schedules and shown up at the Tower within two days. It was a measure of the depth of their friendship that they’d come so quickly even though Rhodes was an Air Force Colonel and Pepper was a Fortune 100 CEO. Clint didn’t know exactly what they had talked about because he’d respected Tony’s request to talk to his oldest friends alone. After all, there were some things between him and Tasha and Coulson that he wouldn’t involve Tony in._

_Anyway, it didn’t matter that Clint didn’t know the details because Tony had returned from the talk exhausted but happy. Knowing that it had gone well was enough for Clint. And now it was the Avengers’ turn. Tony had thought that keeping it casual over team dinner was better than calling an official assembly for a big announcement. Clint had agreed._

_When Steve and Tasha started to get up to take care of the dishes—Bruce had cooked so he was exempt from dish duty—Tony finally seemed to realize that it was now or never._

_“Wait, wait, leave the dishes. Sit down, please. I, um, I have something to say.”_

_There was a brief moment of hesitation in which the other three team members shared questioning glances. Interestingly enough, after Steve and Tasha sat back down, Tasha gave Clint an inscrutable look._

_Once everyone was settled, they all looked at Tony with looks ranging from avid curiosity (Steve) to polite interest (Tasha) to resignation (Bruce). Clint figured Bruce probably thought Tony had committed some kind of PR disaster and was now telling them before it was on the nine o’clock news._

_Tony looked like a deer frozen in headlights under the combined attention of his teammates. The silence was starting to stretch long enough that Clint was tempted to make a crickets chirping noise. But Clint was trying his hand at maturity, so he put his hand on Tony’s leg under the table in a gesture of support. He had sat next to Tony for this very purpose._

_Tony finally shook himself out of his paralysis. “Um, well, I, uh,” he stuttered. He looked helplessly at Clint and Clint smiled encouragingly back at him. Tony blurted out, panicked, “I’m dating Clint!”_

_Clint resisted the strong impulse to face palm. Though to be fair, Tony wasn’t actually doing all that badly. At least he was still struggling forward. If Clint had been in Tony’s place, he’d probably have passed out from the anxiety long before now._

_“Duh.”_

_Clint turned to see who had said that. By the way everyone was staring disbelievingly at Steve and Steve was blushing scarlet under their stares, it had to have been Steve, but still…Steve? Seriously? Captain America had just said ‘duh’. Clint wasn’t sure what to do with that._

_Steve crossed his arms defensively. “What, isn’t that what you’re supposed to say when something is obvious?”_

_Bruce patted Steve on the hand with the air of a parent whose child had just done something adorably idiotic. “Yes, Steve, if you happen to be a pre-teen.”_

_Steve’s blush deepened._

_Tasha must have taken pity on Steve because she diverted their attentions with, “Steve’s right, even if I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.” She turned to Tony, “We’ve all known for ages that you’ve been dating Clint. If the disgusting sappiness around the Tower wasn’t enough of a clue, we’d have gotten it after the tabloids started printing photos of your dates.”_

_Clint didn’t bother protesting the ‘disgusting sappiness’ comment. Clint had no hope of winning against Tasha. Besides, she was right._

_Tony must not have gotten the memo to never argue with Tasha for he said, “Hey! You couldn’t have known for sure that those were dates. We could have just been bros hanging out.”_

_“Right.” Tasha arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Bros.” She drawled that word with such lazy contempt she almost made Tony blush._

_Tony coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Okay. Maybe not.”_

_Tasha said, “So, what did you really want to tell us?”_

_Tony took a deep breath and let it out in a violent gust of air. “Okay, okay.” He met their eyes head on and said it like ripping off a bandage, “I’m a Switch.”_

_Steve looked confused. Bruce looked contemplative. Natasha looked unimpressed._

_Steve finally broke the silence, his face scrunched up like a little lost puppy’s. “I don’t understand. Is that a new modern thing?”_

_Tony looked around at his teammates’ faces. Bolstered by the fact that nobody looked like they were going to call him a liar or a freak, Tony calmly explained what being a Switch meant. He gave them a simple definition and told them how he found out he was one. He completely left out anything about Ty, Rumiko, and Stane. He briefly mentioned Afghanistan to explain why he had started taking Rodoxin-D. All in all, it went pretty quickly. Much less detailed and emotionally fraught than Tony’s private conservation with Clint had been._

_When Tony finished, he clapped his hands together, and said casually, as if he hadn’t just spilled his best kept secret, “So, now you know. Questions? Comments?”_

_Steve said earnestly, “Thanks for explaining, Tony. And thanks for trusting us. That was really brave.”_

_Christ. Clint was almost blinded by the shining sincerity pouring off Steve. Sometimes, that man was just too much._

_Tony looked kind of suspicious of Steve’s response. Tony had probably been expecting grudging acceptance or polite neutrality at best. “Really? That’s—I—well, I don’t know what to say. Clap yourself on the back, Cap, you just threw Tony Stark for a loop.”_

_Steve said dryly, “I’ll be sure to write it down.” At the sight of Tony still looking half-stunned, Steve sighed and asked, “What, were you expecting me to be more narrow-minded? Is it because I’m Captain America? Because that doesn’t say good things about our country.”_

_Tony said, somewhat flatfooted, “No, it’s just that the way Dad used to talk about you…well, let’s just say he held you up as a paragon I could never aspire to. It only got worse after he found out I was Switch. Everyone knows that the serum turned you into a perfect specimen of a Dom. Whether you were a Neutral or just too sickly to present at the proper time is up for much heated debate, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I just figured…”_

_“What, that because I’d been turned into a ‘perfect’ Dom”—everyone could hear the quotes in Steve’s voice—“I would be prejudiced against anyone who isn’t a so-called normal Dom?”_

_“No, no, I’m not explaining this very well. It’s just, Dad thought I was a freak. He wanted to fix me. He figured if the serum did that for you, then it might work for me. After he died, I had to clear out the old Stark mansion and I found his notes. He’d been looking into the serum in the hopes it’d turn me into a proper Dom. He died before his research amounted to much. Frankly, if Rodoxin-D had been invented while he’d still been alive, he would have forced me to take it.”_

_Tony had told Clint about his father’s research some time ago. Clint had wanted to ask Tony to make a time machine just so Clint could go back and punch Howard in the face. Tony had also told Clint, voice full of shame, how living with Steve sometimes made him feel like he was being shown in great and personal detail how much he didn’t measure up to a_ real _Dom. After that, Clint had felt like a punch was too good for Howard._

_Steve said scornfully—though it was clear the scorn wasn’t directed at Tony—“Howard should have known I was more than my squeaky-clean, straight-laced image. After all, he knew about Peggy.”_

_Tony’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What does Aunt Peggy have to do with anything?”_

_“Anyone with eyes could have seen I was sweet on her.”_

_Tony squeaked, eyes huge, “But she was—”_

_“Yes, she was a Dom.”_

_“You two were together? How does nobody about know that?” Tony demanded._

_Steve’s ears turned pink. He rubbed the back of his neck and said somewhat awkwardly, “Well, it never really turned into anything, but if I hadn’t put that plane down into the Artic, I think it might have. I’m pretty sure everyone on the base knew. Peggy and I were both private people, but it’s not like we were keeping it a secret or anything either.”_

_“Then that it makes even weirder that Cap’s Big Homodynamic Romance never made it into the history books. What, were all the paps falling asleep on the job?”_

_Steve shrugged. “The paparazzi weren’t as crazy back then as they are now. And we didn’t have reporters with us on the front. Well, we did have a camera crew following us around for a little bit, but they were sent by the upper brass to show the folks back home what the Howling Commandoes were like, you know, to raise more support for the war.”_

_“Oh, I’ve seen those films. They’re actually still being shown at the Smithsonian. But Dad collected the original film reels. If you want them, I can get them out of storage for you.”_

_“That’d be swell. Thanks, Tony.”_

_Tony looked uncomfortable with the genuine gratitude. He mumbled, “No problem.”_

_“It’d be great to see their faces again, but I always thought those films were kinda dumb.”_

_Tasha asked curiously, “How so?”_

_Steve fidgeted before saying, “Well, they made it seem like the friendship between Bucky, Peggy, and I was this grand, untouchable bond between Doms. They actually called us the Golden Trio. It was like our friendship was more special than anybody else’s, like we were supposed to be a model for how Doms should band together. Sure, I was really close with Bucky and Peggy, but not because we were all Doms. It’s not like we sat around talking about how to be a great Dom or what kind of Sub we were gonna settle down with after the war. And they also made it seem like the reason we were such good fighters was because our dynamics made us protectors. My ma was a Sub and I’ve never met a person more protective than her.”_

_Silence fell. And here Clint had thought that Tony would be the only one coming out._

_Tony broke the silence—of course he did because that man was incapable of letting silence be. “Wow. So Captain America is homodynamic.”_

_Steve said, “Captain America isn’t anything. Steve Rogers on the other hand, well, I wouldn’t actually say that I’m homodynamic. It’s not like I liked Peggy because she was a Dom. I would have thought she was just as swell if she’d been a Sub or Neutral.”_

_“Pandynamic. Even better. God, if only people knew. It’d change, well, not everything, but it’d change a lot.”_

_“Really? You think people would care that much?”_

_“What, that Captain America—yeah, I know you’re Steve, but everyone will see the suit whether you’re in it or not—that Captain America isn’t as straight-laced as people thought? Bigots would have a lot more trouble using you as their mascot. And kids who are confused or bullied would be able to use you as a role model.”_

_“I’m not sure I want to be a dancing monkey again, and I’m still not used the three ring circus that is the media today, but if you really think it’ll make a difference, I’ll think about it.”_

_There was another moment of thoughtful silence. God, the shocks just kept coming._

_This time it was Bruce who broke the silence. “Well, since everyone seems to be sharing…”_

_Tony turned to Bruce with wide eyes. “What, you too? Wow, everyone’s been stealing my thunder tonight.”_

_But everyone could see that Tony was pleased to not be the only one in the spotlight. Clint wondered what Bruce had to tell them. At this point, he thought nothing could surprise him._

_“Hulk is a Sub.”_

_Okay, so maybe Clint could still be surprised._

_“What? How?” Clint asked._

_Tony looked like he was going to vibrate off his seat if he didn’t get answers pronto—Clint had probably asked a microsecond before Tony had been able to. Steve and Tasha looked really interested in an explanation, too, but they were much better at sitting still._

_Bruce looked pretty uncomfortable with everyone’s attention on him, but he didn’t shy away from them. He took off his glasses and spoke while cleaning them, “If you’re asking logistically how the Other Guy is a Sub, well, probably the same way he’s big and green. Even I’m not entirely sure why the gamma radiation did any of that. None of it makes sense. If you’re asking why, on the other hand, well, that’s pretty complicated. I’m actually not sure either, but I’ve got guesses.”_

_Tony chimed in, “You’re a genius, Green Bean. I’d take your guesses over anyone else’s sure answers.”_

_Bruce quirked a lip in a faint smile at the praise. All humor faded though when he next spoke, “I assume you’ve all read my file.” At everyone’s nods, he continued, “Then you’ll know about my parents. My father was a monstrously abusive Dom and my mom was a gentle Sub who couldn’t leave him. I never wanted to be a Dom, so I was pretty horrified when I presented. If you think Hulk sprung from my id, then maybe that subconscious desire translated to him. Another guess is if you take the Hulk as a part of me, then maybe I always had a little bit of Sub in me.”_

_Bruce turned to Tony and said, “Like I said, it’s all guesses. I don’t want to undermine your identity and what you went through by casually implying I could have been a Switch.”_

_Tony face was full of rare emotion. He actually looked genuinely touched. “Hey, you wouldn’t be undermining anything. It would actually be nice to meet another Switch.”_

_“Well, I doubt I was one—there wasn’t any evidence back then of me being anything other than a fairly ordinary Dom—but I wouldn’t mind if I had been. I mean, you’re a Switch and you’re pretty cool.”_

_Tony got out of his seat and went over to Bruce. “I’m gonna hug you now, okay?” When Bruce nodded, blushing, Tony wrapped his arms tightly around him and declared happily, “You’re awesome and you deserve all the hugs. I’m gonna get you another lab.”_

_Bruce immediately started protesting Tony’s excessive gift-giving._

_“No, you can’t refuse. It’d be rude.” Tony beamed smugly at the others. “Brucie Bear thinks I’m cool. It’s official. JARVIS, save a recording of the last two minutes to my personal drive.”_

_“Very well, Sir.”_

_Bruce groaned. “I’m already starting to regret everything.”_

_Tony grinned widely and said, “No, you’re not.”_

_Bruce sighed. “No, I’m not.”_

_Tasha said dryly. “Great. You’ve just made Tony’s head even bigger.”_

_Steve added, mock reproachful, “Bruce, I’m hurt. Do you not think we’re cool, too?”_

_Bruce blushed furiously and muttered incomprehensible things under his breath._

_Tony stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Ha, see, I’m special.”_

_“Oh you’re special alright.” Steve rolled his eyes._

_Clint smiled at all the harmless teasing. He was glad that the team had become close enough that sharing secrets had bonded them together rather than torn them apart._

_Tony suddenly asked brightly, “Alright, does anybody else have earth-shattering secrets about their presentation to share? Or secrets about anything, really. Let’s get them all out in the open so we never have to do this feelings thing again.”_

_As one, everyone turned to look at Natasha._

_She arched a cool eyebrow. “What? I’m a Neutral.” She looked bored, as if she was done with the drama of dynamics, but Clint knew that she was actually deeply honored that they trusted her with their secrets—not that many people did after they found out she was a spy. “Can we watch a movie now?”_

_Tony and Steve immediately started bickering over what movie to watch while Bruce tried to play mediator. Clint and Tasha got up to follow them to the living room. Tasha brushed her fingers briefly against his, performing one of their little check-in rituals. Clint smiled at her to let her know everything was good. And it was. Maybe Fury had been onto something with this whole team thing._

_Not that Clint was ever going to admit anything to Fury._

 

 

 

 

Clint checked his phone for the hundredth time even though he knew that if Tony had really sent him a message, JARVIS would have informed him. Yep. Just as he thought. No new messages. Tony had been expected home over an hour ago but had been delayed due to some technical difficulties at the airport. Tony had offered to take the Iron Man suit home, but Clint had figured that the resulting scolding from Pepper wouldn’t be worth it.

Clint sighed. He picked up the controller and went back to playing the puzzle adventure game he had working steadily through for the past few hours. He was really starting to lose interest, but he was also too distracted and unmotivated to go to the shooting range or try a calmer leisure activity like reading.

Clint turned when he heard the sound of footsteps. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his character fall off the bridge and drown. Fucking stupid game avatars that couldn’t swim.

Bucky was standing somewhat uncertainly at the entrance to the common living room. Clint realized Bucky had made noise when approaching solely for Clint’s benefit. Bucky could give Clint and Tasha a run for their money when it came to sneakiness.

Clint waved Bucky closer. “Come on in. This space is for everyone.”

Bucky smiled and joined Clint on the couch.

“Sorry, if you’re looking for Tony, he’s still not back yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I was looking for you, actually.”

“What’s up?”

Clint wondered if this was some kind of delayed freak out about Bucky domming Tony and Clint a few days ago. Had Bucky done something he wasn’t ready for or felt uncomfortable with? Was he backing out of their arrangement? Clint didn’t get much time to worry because Bucky answered pretty quickly.

“Just wanted to spend time with you. Get to know you better. We both know each other mostly in relation to Tony. You’ve gone down for me but I hardly know much about you. I figure we should get to know each other outside of our dynamics.”

“Sounds good. What do you want to do?”

Clint thought that if the arrangement continued to work out so well, Bucky might eventually be added to the romantic and dynamic relationships Clint and Tony already shared. But that was a conversation for a future date. Clint and Tony had to talk about it first. Even if their relationship with Bucky never became anything more, Clint still wanted to get to know Bucky better for the sake of becoming friends.

“Well, what are you doing?”

Clint sighed. “I’m getting kinda tired of this dumb game. Want to play something else? I’ll teach you how the controls work.”

Bucky murmured agreement. He seemed to be pleased to be invited to join Clint.

Clint handed Bucky a controller. Bucky pressed the buttons and toggled the miniature joysticks just to see how the controller operated.

“JARVIS, pulled up a few of the more popular games from each genre, will you?”

“Of course, Master Barton.”

A selection of a dozen or so games showed up on the large TV screen. Clint explained each one with a brief synopsis of the background story and gameplay.

“So, which one catches your fancy?”

Bucky looked at the colorful icon of each game with a little furrow of concentration between his brows. “Halo?”

“Will a shooter game about a super soldier trigger you, do you think?”

Bucky shook his head. “You said it’s about shooting aliens, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I should be fine.”

Clint took Bucky’s choice at face value. To doubt him further would be disrespectful. While Clint went through the preliminary game setup choices, he went in to further detail about how the gameplay worked. After demonstrating in campaign mode and then helping Bucky try it out in co-op mode, they finally started playing against each other.

At first, Clint quickly found and killed Bucky’s in-game character while Bucky struggled with the unfamiliar controls. Bucky had a pretty steep learning curve though. Very quickly, Clint’s victories took a lot longer to achieve. And in between some of them, Bucky managed to win a round here and there. In short, what had started out as a friendly game became viciously competitive.

During a brief lull, Clint joked, “It’s a good thing you didn’t pick Mario Kart. That game ruins friendships.”

Bucky smirked. “What’s a little friendly competition between friends? Or are you a sore loser, Barton?”

“Oh, it is so on!”

They played their way through a variety of video games until they collapsed against the back of the couch a few hours later, neither of them a clear victor, but both groaning about sore muscles in their backs from hunching over tensely for so long and in their hands from gripping the controllers.

“I had no idea guys from the forties knew that kind of language. I think you even taught me a new swear or two.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I was a soldier in the forties, emphasis on soldier. Swearing was so common, ‘fucking’ was a modifier for practically everything.”

“Oh, really? Then how come Steve talks like a boy scout?”

“Well, that’s ‘cause the punk got into advertising before he got to the frontlines. He hadda have a clean mouth for the moving pictures, right, so the dames and kids at home could watch ‘em.”

“Your Brooklyn’s showing.” Clint grinned. “I think it’s cute.”

Bucky lunged at Clint and shouted, “You take that back! I’ll show you cute, you good fer nothin’ punk!”

Their wrestling took them off the couch and onto the floor. Clint couldn’t put up a good fight because he was laughing so hard at the outrage on Bucky’s face. And even if he had been in top form, this was the Winter Soldier he was up against—he didn’t have a chance.

Bucky finally trapped Clint beneath his legs and growled, “There’s only one way to settle this like men.”

Clint grinned fearlessly up into Bucky’s hovering face like he wasn’t being menaced by the world’s scariest assassin. “Yeah, and how’s that?”

“A shooting competition.”

“Neither of us is going to miss a shot. It’d be a tie.”

 Bucky sat back, still straddling Clint. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas to make this more interesting. Race you to the armory!” And then Clint scooted out from underneath Bucky and ran for the elevator.

Clint watched Bucky’s eyes widen with indignation as the elevator doors closed on his face. Clint was too pumped up with excitement to wonder if challenging the Winter Soldier was a smart idea. Whatever. Nobody ever accused Clint of being smart.

An hour, some broken furniture, and a bit of cheating via JARVIS later, Clint was about to deliver the final kill shot, when Tony burst into the room, frantically shouting at them to stop. Startled, Clint pointed his weapon at Tony before he realized who it was. Once he saw it was Tony, he relaxed and focused his attention back on Bucky.

Clint called casually to Tony without looking away from his target, “Hey, babe, you’ve got great timing. You’re about to watch me shoot this bastard in the face.”

“What?!” Tony stepped in between where Clint was standing and where Bucky was still stuck to some equipment that Clint had asked JARVIS to magnetize. “Whatever he’s done, or whatever you’ve done—whatever has happened since I’ve been gone—I’m sure we can talk this out, can’t we?”

Clint finally turned to look at Tony and saw that there was genuine confusion and alarm in Tony’s eyes. It took Clint a moment to realize what was going on.

“Oh! Oh.” Clint gestured towards the gun in his hands. “This isn’t real. See?”

Clint pointed the gun at Bucky’s torso and fired. Tony reflexively flinched, but then relaxed when he saw that a purple paint splotch was now splattered across Bucky’s shirt. Bucky looked down at himself and scrunched his nose in disgust at his ruined shirt.

Bucky glanced vaguely at the ceiling. “Hey, JARVIS, you mind letting me go?”

“Of course, Mister Barnes.”

There was a whirr and then Bucky’s arm came loose. Bucky made his way over to Clint and Tony. Tony looked pretty sheepish.

Clint asked, “You really thought I was trying to kill Bucky?”

“Well, um. I kind of saw the state of the common floor and freaked out. There was some blood on the broken furniture. Not a lot, but still. So, I asked JARVIS to show me what you were doing and all I saw was you about to shoot Bucky!”

Bucky smirked charmingly, “Aww, you care about me, doll. That’s so sweet.”

Tony crossed his arms across his chest, somewhat embarrassed but unwilling to admit it. He huffed, “Shut up.”

Bucky glanced at Clint, as if asking for permission. Clint figured he knew what Bucky was asking for, so he nodded.

Bucky gently pulled Tony closer so that he could cradle Tony’s head in his hands and give Tony a chaste kiss on the head. He said with a smile in his voice, “I like that you’re sweet.”

Tony blushed. He looked up at Clint, a little wide-eyed. Clint smiled and walked closer to draw Tony into a heated kiss.

When the kiss ended, Clint didn’t pull back far. With Tony in front of him, and the heat of Bucky at his back, Clint’s smile deepened as he said, “Welcome home.”

Tony muttered, “You still owe me for emotional trauma.”

Clint knew Tony wasn’t really upset because Tony buried himself closer to Clint. Even so, Clint said with a smile in his voice, “How about Bucky and I spar a bit and let you watch?”

Tony pulled back with an incredulous look on his face. “So, to make me feel better about thinking you guys were trying to kill each other, you’re going to pretend to kill each other some more?”

Bucky smirked. “I think what Clint’s trying to suggest is come watch us work up a sweat while shirtless.”

Clint nodded at Bucky. “Exactly. Took the words right outta my mouth.”

Tony’s eyes alighted with mischievous glee. “Okay then, what are we waiting for?”

 

 

 

 

_Clint watched through his sniper scope as Natasha, disguised with a dirty blond wig and baggy clothes, made her way through the busy streets of Amsterdam._

_“So, you and Stark, huh?”_

_Clint rolled his eyes. “Really? We’re going to do this now?”_

_“Don’t tell me_ you’re _going to lecture me about mission protocol.”_

_Clint sighed. “I try not to be a hypocrite.”_

_“So, you and Stark.”_

_“Yes, me and Stark. What about it?”_

_“Tell me about him.”_

_“You’re the one who was actually sent undercover to spy on him. You know him. And you know me. What more is there to say?”_

_“Hmm. I thought I knew him. But he continues to surprise me. In any case, you know him differently than I do. He’s shown you sides of himself that he hasn’t shown the rest of us. I want to know what you think of him—where you see all this going.”_

_Before Clint could answer, their contact crashed into Nat. From there, it was a hot mess involving Nat practically carrying a man twice her size through the streets, a high speed car chase with lots of shit blowing up, Clint leaping across roofs in a desperate attempt to keep up, and culminating in a spectacular dressing down from Fury._

_After they stepped out of Fury’s office, Clint turned to Nat and picked up the conversation like they’d never left off, “Tony and I…we work. I think it’s going to last. I hope so, at least.”_

_Nat smiled as softly as she was capable of and said simply, “Good. I’m glad.”_

“Did you know that there’s a type of vulture that dyes its own feathers in the interest of appearance?”

Winter Soldier groaned. “Hawkeye, do you not understand the meaning of radio silence?”

Clint muttered, “Sorry, sorry.”

After a few minutes of silence, Clint spoke again, “Did you know that there’s a type of thrush that uses its own farts to flush out worms?”

“Hawkeye! Try not to take your own codename so seriously, okay? No more weird bird facts.”

“Okay, okay.”

Another few minutes of silence, “Did you—”

“Barton! What’s the matter, man? I thought you were a professional. Don’t tell me you’re always like this in a sniper nest—you would have been made on a mission ages ago.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s not every day I get to be part of a mission that requires two snipers with one of history’s best snipers.”

“Oh my god, you’re fanboying now? Seriously?! We’ve been living in the same Tower for weeks!”

“It didn’t hit me then!” Clint said defensively. “Before now, you were always Steve’s Bucky, or more recently, Tony’s Bucky.”

After a long pause and a sigh, Bucky said, “Well, I can’t say I’m not flattered. But pull yourself together, soldier, you can fawn over me later, after I prove I’m this mission’s MVP.”

“Fawn over you? MVP?” Clint cried, outraged.

“Yeah, didn’t you say, best sniper right here.”

“ _One_ _of_! One of history’s best snipers!”

“What, you think you’re also one?”

“Of course! I am going to make you eat your words. MVP, my ass!”

Bucky chuckled at the unintentional joke.  He drawled, “Your ass is pretty fine.”

Coulson’s dry tones cut in, “Agents, from here on out, for every word out of either of you, I will detain the both of you an extra hour after debrief.”

Clint could hear Coulson’s smugness over the total and sudden silence.

_Handler: 1. Snipers: 0._


End file.
